ReSparked
by Tavalya Ra
Summary: In the space bridge's wake, the Autobots cope with jarring revelations and chaging relationships. Meanwhile Megatron teams with Starscream's dangerous and intelligent female clone as Starscream begins merging with the AllSpark. AU- S3 never happens.
1. Chapter 1: The Remainder

**Re-Sparked**  
by Tavalya Ra

Summary: In the aftermath of the space bridge's collapse, Optimus Prime navigates his crew through jarring revelations, changing relationships, and the unexpected assignment of another team member. Meanwhile, two old threats prepare to return with new plans: Megatron, who has teamed up with Starscream's intelligent and dangerous female clone, and Starscream himself, who is slowly merging with the AllSpark. This is just the prelude. AU: Season Three never happened and doesn't apply.

Rating: R for violence and sex

Warnings: Slash, sex, violence, and bad computer metaphors. Spoilers for the first two seasons of "Transformers Animated". Future installments in the series will have MPreg.

Disclaimer: "Transformers Animated" is owned by Hasbro, who probably doesn't care what I do as long as I keep buying their toys, and by Cartoon Network. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

* * *

**Chapter One: The Remainder**

Although Blackarachnia had joined the Deceptions willingly, she had felt it her only option. Former, disreputable enemies were better companions than none at all; tens of stellar cycles alone, mindlessly hunted by the spiders on their native world had taught her that. Life among the Decepticons was surprisingly less rigid and regulated than at the Autobot Academy. Starscream aside, Megatron was more tyrannical towards foe than ally and willing to make allowances for her being- as Blitzwing had once put it- "squishy". While she had helped scavenge and steal parts for her leader's construction project, her presence was not required at the space bridge's activation nor the succeeding invasion of Cybertron. She took advantage of her master's liberal attitude towards her with her absence. Knowing that the Autobots would be distracted by the planned crisis, she decided to use the time to conduct her usual, less-than-scrupulous research into purging her body of its organic half.

She was on Dinobot Island, scouring for some remains of Meltdown to blackmail, when the explosion rocked the ground beneath her and knocked her onto her aft. A crash of blue warped the sunlight and wind ripped past her, its powerful rush only a fraction of the force and fury of the gales at the epicenter. Her stomach- revoltingly, she had one- plummeted. Something had gone wrong. She hadn't particularly cared one way or another about Megatron's latest scheme- that wasn't why she was with the Decepticons- yet now she felt a smothering horror: something had been lost, something greater than a single battle or plot gone awry. She clutched at the dirt, fearing the gusts would intensify and almost screamed for Grimlock. He would save her, that sweet, simple, stupid lug of scrap that barely passed for an Autobot. A surge of self-awareness filled and disgusted her. She couldn't even protect herself- but had she ever been so capable? If Elita-1 had been so much stronger, would she really have become Blackarachnia?

Balled lightning rippled backwards onto itself, imploding and belching out a wave of pressure. The impact pressed on her paneling, pinching her in the few places where she had fleshy parts beneath. Then the roar of the vortex ceased and the island lay quiet- too quiet for a refuge of wild tangles of nature. The birds, she realized, had fled and the wake of the explosion had left the Dinobots subdued.

Nausea roiled in her. Something had gone wrong; that noxious certainty was the extent of what she knew. She transformed to spider mode and skittered back to the boat she had taken, to sail back to the pier and return to the carbon mines. Home, dreary and hated, but home at this moment. She already knew what she would find, but held the idea suspended in denial until she walked up on the lip of the ruins, the pit of rubble in the ground where there had once been a mountain.

Blackarachnia fell onto her knees. Revelations slammed her processor. The Decepticon base was gone. _Her_ base was gone. Her allies were gone. She'd loathed them and they'd regularly sneered or flinched at her, but they'd still fought for each other. Lugnut had distrusted her and Blitzwing had taunted her, but they had protected her anyway simply for the emblem at her throat. Now they were offline.

Now she was alone.

She raised her servos to the sides of her helmet and screamed. She _couldn't_ be alone- not again! She didn't need some bot always by her side, but she did need one behind her: someone that, whether in victory or shame and agony, she could limp back to him and there would be shelter. Being an Autobot meant fitting into the vaunted mold, but being a Decepticon meant _that_. She could endure without friends or love- for so many stellar cycles she had- but not alone on an alien world that hated her.

Whipping whirrs tore through the air behind her: copter blades. Humans, like Decepticons, were deadliest with aerial attacks. Panic arced through her- already, the creatures of this world pursued her, pouncing on the opportunity to purge the Earth of any survivors. Gripped with a choking hopelessness, she turned to face the natives' soulless machines. Yet the military planes warped forms in the sky to land as Lugnut and Blitzwing.

Cool-faced, Blitzwing stated blandly, "Blackarachnia. I see you are online." His face rotated to one of anger. "Where were you when-"

"Silence!" snapped Lugnut in irritation. "Megatron told her to stay away for her safety- she obeyed Megatron!"

Lugnut coming to her defense- strange, but her world had been flung inside out again, after all. That she despised Lugnut and Blitzwing mattered little. She had companions once more and relief dizzied her.

"Where is Megatron?" she asked breathily- how she hated needing to breath, that deprivation of air could kill her when she'd once raced on bare moons with Optimus and Sentinel.

"The Autobot scum! It was a dirty move!" bellowed Blitzwing- then he went crazy. "If I knew a Decepticon that big, I'd teach him to tap dance and destroy in style!"

In response to the cryptic retort, she looked towards Lugnut, who slumped and replied, "We do not know. Nor do we know what became of the Starscreams after Omega Supreme blasted us. We dug Mixmaster and Scrapper from the ruins, but no one else- and they are offline."

"The Starscreams? Omega Supreme?" she repeated, dazed by the information that Lugnut offered without any accompanying explanation. That the Constructicons were dead did not faze her. She had barely known them and her single encounter with them had involved some unforgivable and unrepeatable comments directed at her aft. "What's going on? What are we…?"

_What do we do now? _Megatron was gone. That reality thudded her, more forcefully than it had the first time fifty stellar cycles ago, when she had yet to make contact with- and enemies upon- Earth. She had a stake in this disgustingly organic planet, but now the Decepticons would again splinter and scatter undirected; the quest for the AllSpark would be lost, if not forgotten altogether. What now?

Blitzwing, cool-headed again, lowered himself to offer a servo- not out of friendship, but solidarity. They were both Decepticons, united by the scorn and rejection of the Autobots. "We may be the only ones left in this sector. We do not know if Megatron is online-"

"Nor that he is offline!" Lugnut reminded boisterously. "He is online. As before, I feel it. And before, I was right-"

"Ooo, you two must be spark-linked! And without cables!" chimed Blitzwing, briefly crazy before going calm again. "We need to find shelter. Blend in for now and then contact the other resistance cells to determine if they know more. It is possible Megatron escaped the collapse of our base through the space bridge. For now, we wait."

Blackarachnia lifted herself with the leverage of Blitzwing's servo. Her future was uncertain, but she was not alone and her cohorts had a plan. These were conditions under which she could abide. She could continue to nurture her frail sparks of hope that she would one day be normal again- but for now she followed Blitzwing and Lugnut into the woods, prepared to accept and aid in whatever their designs.

* * *

"Sari… we need to talk."

Yet Professor Sumdac's sorely required heart-to-heart- or heart-to-whatever Sari actually possessed- wasn't what happened next. Sari needed repair and a hospital clearly would not suffice. The Autobots returned to Sumdac Tower. Optimus nudged Sari to ride in Bumblebee, hoping her closest friend's surrounding presence would sooth her, and took the Professor into his own cab. During the trip everyone was quiet. No one seemed jubilant over Megatron's defeat. It had come at a price too dear and shaking; Optimus suspected that many of the consequences of today's battle would not become apparent until much later. Although he felt he ought to interrogate Sumdac, he couldn't think of what to ask. His processor was running sluggish from so many threads of anxiety active at once. He did what he knew was pragmatic: identified the immediate task and mobilized to accomplish it. Right now, that was fixing Sari.

Unfortunately, they'd forgotten that Sumdac Tower _wasn't_ Sumdac anymore. It was Powell Tower and Porter C. Powell personally stormed into the lobby to declare the building off-limits to Autobots. Before Sumdac could leave Optimus' cab and assert his legal ownership of the premises, Ratchet reverted to robot mode and declared, "I've dragged my wheels through too much slag today to put up with any more from you!"

Considering Powell only landed painfully on his bum rather than break every bone in his body when he hit the sidewalk, Ratchet was rather gentle in drop-kicking the man out of the tower. A moment later, the medi-bot's rash decision backfired as Optimus' antenna picked up a signal from Powell's cell phone.

"Hello? Is this Captain Fanzone? No? Good. The Autobots have gone rogue! They've invaded Powell Tower- send back up, send the National Guard- hell, jump over the pond and call the Mounties, just get the biggest guns you've got immediately!"

Ratchet rumbled, his left servo twitching.

Prowl tapped the side of his head, activating his external comm link. "I advise we contact Captain Fanzone. Despite his aversion to Earth's technological advances, he regards us favorably, myself in particular."

"Do it," said Optimus.

Thus began the siege of Sumdac/Powell Tower, not an arduous task but one that seemed like a cruel joke given their previous battle barely a megacycle ago. The Autobots were weary, their sparks dim; Optimus saw their dejection in Ratchet's fierce and pained expression, Bumblebee's forlorn disorientation, and Bulkhead's quiet resignation- Prowl was no doubt affected, too, but his faceplate was stoic as ever. Professor Sumdac activated the tower's force field. Bumblebee and Prowl, both small enough to fit through the upper levels' corridors, escorted him and Sari to his private lab and then worked on ejecting any adversaries. Human workers were roughly directed downstairs and out the doors to join Powell, sparkless guard robots were simply chucked through the windows. Eventually, the S.W.A.T. units arrived and Prowl was recalled to converse with Fanzone, explain the situation and negotiate an exit that wouldn't transform the Autobots into public enemy number one.

Cycles later, Prowl reentered the tower. "Powell is demanding proof that Professor Sumdac is alive. Fanzone suggests we comply. If we do, they'll summon a type of specialized civic arbitrators called 'lawyers' to resolve this."

Optimus didn't ask why involving yet another party was necessary; he didn't understand the strange Earth customs that had ripped control of Sumdac Systems from Sari. "Alright, if Sari's repaired get the professor down here. Let's make this quick. We have other tasks to accomplish, foremost returning to base to contact Ultra Magnus. We don't know where in the universe Megatron is- the Elite Guard has to be warned." And he didn't even know which Decepticons- if any- were still on Earth, who was or was not online.

_Elita…_ He aborted the code of thought. No time now- and no hope.

Via elevator, Professor Sumdac returned to the lobby. His left arm was circled protectively around Sari, who was clutching herself and shaking. She looked at Bumblebee, fluid leaking from her eyes, and warbled, "My room! It's not the same! They completely changed my room!"

The professor patted her gently. "There, there, Sari. It will be alright. We can change it back-"

She rushed away from him to grab Bumblebee's foot. The Autobot responded by carefully scooping her into his hands, holding them as a cradle for her to sit.

With a weary look, Sumdac turned to Optimus and said, "She's just… dealing. As best she can. She's overwhelmed. So much has happened in the last hour, so many troubling things…"

"Yes," Optimus agreed flatly. "We've all learned new, troubling things."

"Ah…" Sumdac coughed into his hand. "I will go speak with Captain Fanzone."

Optimus followed Sumdac's departure with his optical lenses. The man had rebuilt Megatron- and maybe he had been tricked, but he had still lied about Megatron's presence in his lab. He had disappeared and reemerged with Megatron, had during that period aided Megatron… and maybe it had all been under duress. What was a mere human against a Decepticon? Yet Optimus thought of Sari and knew that she would have resisted. He felt a great affection for her, the smallest and most capricious member of his crew. He'd been on Earth just long enough to know she was special. Now she was crying because of a hurt that Sumdac had caused and so Optimus felt rather incapable of pity for the professor.

"Don't worry, Sari. You've got your room at the base. You can always stay with us!" Bumblebee chimed. "We'll always be here…"

_No, we won't_, Optimus thought somberly. With Megatron removed from their proximity, the search for the AllSpark fragments would dominate their focus and progress swiftly. Sooner rather than later, their mission would be complete and the Elite Guard would recall them to Cybertron, where they might be hailed as heroes. The idea depressed him. _We're all here, all online, and we were victorious. So why do I feel like I'm running on empty?_

A megacycle of waiting passed: everyone- even Bumblebee- quiet, placidly alert for the next strike as if they anticipated some lethal attempt. The tension, Optimus thought, was ridiculous. The humans weren't going to hurt them; the means which humans possessed that could hurt Autobots were too extreme for this situation. Yet he nonetheless felt a frizzle through his circuits; he lacked control and had a discomforting level of uncertainty.

Prowl returned and reported, "The lawyers informed me that completing their arbitration could take as long as a stellar cycle-"

"A stellar cycle!" Ratchet exclaimed in indignation. "That's obscene! We can't wait in here for a _tenth_ of a stellar cycle-"

"But!" announced Prowl, raising his volume to cut off Ratchet's auditory stream, "At the present, they have agreed to return control of the tower to Professor Sumdac, provided we give Powell a megacycle to gather and remove his possessions. Captain Fanzone and the professor will accompany him to ascertain he doesn't take anything that isn't strictly his own. Most of the police force has already departed."

"I don't suppose anyone asked for our say in this," Optimus commented.

"The lawyers do not consider us a party to the conflict. Since the tower is Sumdac's again and he approves of our presence, they don't care what we do so long as we don't provoke any hostilities with Powell."

"Provoke? I'm not going to provoke him," said Bumblebee. "I'll flatten him under my tires so fast he won't have time to be provoked!"

When Powell reentered the tower- in the escort of Sumdac, Fanzone, and several other police members, as the lawyers had promised- he did not acknowledge the Autobots, but walked directly past them with a disdainful sniff. Such recognition was fine with Optimus. He needed no closure with Powell and was satisfied to watch this sadly contemptible example of humanity leave his lifecycle. How fortunate that the Autobots had met people like Sari and Fanzone first, to understand the value and worthiness of the life they protected- but he would have protected the Earth regardless. It was his calling.

What to do about Sari? Optimus glanced towards her and saw her still huddled in Bumblebee's hands, not making eye contact with anyone. He knew that she had been distressed over Sumdac's disappearance and had wanted more than anything to have her father back and safe- _had_. During the last interaction he had witnessed between them Sari had looked at the professor with horrified betrayal. Optimus felt he should intervene- he felt that Sari belonged to him as did any of his crew- but realized he'd probably violate a dozen more Earth customs he didn't understand. Parent-child bonds, as he observed them, were unquestionably respected under most circumstances and without some official dispensation ignoring them was taboo. If he wanted to do so, even questioning as to how to proceed required delicacy.

After a little more than the megacycle which Prowl had specified, Powell marched from the tower in the same fashion as he'd entered. No one said anything, but Optimus heard an engine rev and turned his head in time to catch Bumblebee's narrowed optics follow the man out the door. The contingent of police went with him, but Fanzone remained behind. The police chief gave the room a visual scan, then turned to Sumdac and said, "I'd like to have a word with you, Professor. In private."

Fanzone's tone was both skeptical and judgmental, which activated Optimus' curiosity. Giving a gesture to the others to remain in place, he followed the two men as they moved to a more sequestered section of the lobby. The clanking of his feet naturally caught Fanzone's attention and the chief responded with a turn-around and wary look.

"Do you mind?"

"No disrespect intended, Captain Fanzone, but yes, I do," Optimus said. "Anything related to today's events may very well be a matter of Autobot security. Our destiny- it seems- is closely linked to the Sumdac family."

Sumdac lowered his eyes, while Fanzone responded with a slight growl and head-shake.

"The only thing I hate more than machines is mystic-type mumbo-jumbo. So don't talk to me about 'destiny'. But this does concern Sari and she seems important to you- in more ways that I think is safe or healthy for an eight-year-old girl. I guess you have a right to hear whatever the good professor has to say- provided you can keep your mouth _shut_ afterwards, do you understand?"

"You mean this conversation is classified," Optimus said.

"More than classified- _off-record_," he emphasized. "Never happened."

"Understood." What Fanzone meant anyway, not why the man felt secrecy was necessary.

Fanzone chose a spot he felt distant enough from the doors. Optimus knelt to put his auditory sensors in closer range of the men's voices. The captain spoke first, turning to Sumdac and asking, "So… why exactly are there no legal records of your daughter?"

Bringing his hands together to nervously tap his fingers, Sumdac muttered, "It was an… oversight. I meant to have…"

"A birth certificate is something the hospital would have filled out. Just like registering for social security. We don't even have documentation that her homeschooling is up to Michigan's standards, let alone doctor's charts or dental records… nothing." Fanzone squinted and leaned down, bearing over Sumdac. "Just who is that little girl?"

Sumdac looked up and declared with unexpected fierceness, "My daughter."

"But can you _prove_ it?"

"I will gladly submit her and myself to a comparative DNA test if that's what it takes- I do not appreciate the implication that I snatched her or- or something!"

Fanzone backed away and his tone gentled. "Professor, I'm just doing my job. No, actually, I'm _not_ doing my job. What I should do is turn your daughter over to DSS until this is all sorted out. Instead, I'm covering for you- I'm putting my reputation on the line. So show me a little trust here. I can still turn around and play this like I should- tell me why my gut says I shouldn't."

Moments passed- Sumdac's failure to provide an immediate response doing little to assuage Optimus- before the man answered, "I have done nothing wrong. Nothing… abusive or illegal. I was negligent in not seeing to Sari's paperwork, but that's the only thing. I've always done what's best for her… or tried. I tried…"

"Really?" Fanzone was dubious. "Right now, I don't think anybody's innocent. Nobody's looked too closely at the home life Sari has, but now that I do, I'm finding a very strange picture. Home-schooled, no social interaction besides you and some alien robots-"

"That is not true," Sumdac insisted. "You make it sound like she's isolated and I forbid her to do normal things. She loves this city, she's always exploring some place-"

"But you haven't exactly given her foundations for a normal life."

"Normal is in the eye of the beholder and quite overrated. She is happy and safe and-"

"No, Sumdac, she's not," Fanzone snapped. "She _was_. Then you disappeared and she got kicked out of her home and there was nothing anyone could legally do about it because on paper she doesn't _exist_! So here's what I don't get- how was she even in a position to not have paperwork? I…" Abruptly, the police chief stopped. He sighed and shook his head, gestures that Optimus recognized as signs of fatigue- not necessarily of body, but sometimes weariness of mind or disheartenment. "I can't believe I'm going to ask this. A year ago, it'd've never occurred to me to ask this, but that was before Detroit became Robot Roswell. So not 'who' is my question. _What_ is Sari?"

The professor turned his face away and clutched his arm with his other hand. The lobby again became unnervingly quiet; all Optimus heard was the white static of his own processor as he waited, anticipating the answer.

Persisted Fanzone, "She's not a normal little girl-"

"She's not an experiment," Sumdac interrupted. "The process that made her, yes, but not her. And she is human. And she is my daughter. As for whatever else, I'd rather not say until I've explained it to her. It is her right to know before anyone else. Anything I've done, it was always to protect her. You don't need to tell me, Captain Fanzone, how badly I've failed at that. I already know."

Optimus felt an uncomfortable wave of empathy. He'd felt the same before and that incident, too, had involved Sari: crushing her spirit and thrusting her into peril when his objective had been everyone's best welfare. Now, he was only more anxious to know the truth behind her and if Sumdac deserved another chance.

"Mmph." The sound Fanzone released fell between a groan and a sigh. "I know… of people who can help you with the problem of paperwork. But if anything, even just a whiff, gets out-"

"I can be discreet."

Fanzone opened his eyes from their usual squint. His gaze could not be described as piercing, but it was scrutinizing- deep. "I want you to understand something. When you disappeared and Powell took over, things changed. I don't mean with your company. The city got a little dirtier, a little meaner. And every day, it got a little worse. This place, Sumdac Systems, it's become the heart of Detroit. I didn't realize that until you were gone." He turned to Optimus. "You're my backup on this. If I'm wrong, if anything goes wrong, I expect to hear it from you on my phone."

"You mean concerning Sari?" Optimus inquired for clarification. While he respected Fanzone, he saw no reason to confer with the man about Cybertron's affairs.

"Right. Remember, she's a little girl, not your mystic spirit pet or wizard doctor or whatever." He pointed his finger and waggled it. "A _little_ girl."

Optimus didn't know what most of the terms Fanzone had used meant, but he had some idea- and he suspected that Sari was not one of those, she was in some way all of those. She was all but an Autobot, she had been chosen by the AllSpark… and she was a child, which made bringing war into her life unconscionable and cruel. But she would want to fight whether Optimus could shield her from conflict or not because that was who she was.

Departing, the captain left Optimus and Sumdac together in uneasy company. The little man clasped his hands and shuffled his feet; the Autobot watched, again undetermined as to what to ask. There was too much to ask.

Eventually, Sumdac said, "Thank you for taking care of Sari when I couldn't."

"You're welcome," Optimus vocalized softly, although doing so had never been a favor for Sumdac. "Sari's become dear to all of us. We will always defend her." He stopped, considering his next words and the tone in which he would speak carefully. Reassurance was what he wanted from Sumdac, not to give him. He continued, "From anything." Then, harshly, "And anyone."

A slight, almost stifled gasp conveyed that Sumdac had assimilated the intended meaning of his statement. The professor trembled slightly and stared at Optimus with a look that rattled his mechanism. "No! I know what you are thinking- you can't take Sari away! You cannot!"

The expression- the emotion Sumdac expressed to Optimus, the Autobot as its focus and cause- was fear. Optimus had never thought a human who understood who and what he was would look upon him that way, in the same regard as they did Megatron. He felt both guilty and monstrous.

"I'm sorry," he apologized. "But I don't trust you. You weren't open with us about what you really knew when we first awoke on this planet, you've worked very closely to Megatron- we know you helped him. We can't over look that."

"I didn't want to help him! I had no choice-"

"I can't hold against you feeling that way or acting accordingly- if that was the case…"

"Why would I _want_ to help him?" Sumdac insisted, his wide eyes still alarmed and now also imploring. "Please. My only thoughts were of seeing Sari again. You cannot take her away."

Truly Optimus did not want to separate them, but he was uncertain of what was best for Sari and for everyone. Earlier today the proper actions had been clear: follow Blurr into the carbon mines, fight Megatron, fight Starscream- everyone he had needed to fight was branded, obvious. Yet months ago, when given little by which to navigate his course, his decisions had added to the chaos and strife and Megatron had nearly succeeded in claiming the AllSpark. The choice he weighed now wouldn't determine if someone lived or died, but it would bear upon the future- shape Sari's future even after the AllSpark fragments were gathered and the Autobots departed from this organic world.

"I need assurance," he said. "What is Sari?"

Shaking his head, Sumdac insisted, "Let me tell Sari first. She may want to tell you herself. That is her right. It isn't that I'm unwilling to tell you, I just feel that is the best way."

"I will be watching."

"That doesn't bother me. If I've learned- really learned- anything from Megatron, it's that both of our worlds would be safer if I linked my affairs with yours." The professor no longer appeared scared, but his carriage and visage remained tense. "He… compelled my technical expertise for his goals. There's no reason I couldn't help you in the same way, willingly."

At the offer, Optimus found himself balking. Contemplating how Sumdac had aided their enemies destabilized his already tentative, mostly forced conviction in the professor's goodness and he did not like the man turning to him as a supplicant. Leadership and power were vastly different things and Sumdac presently acted as if Optimus possessed the latter- which was not true and not something Optimus wanted to be true.

"Later would be better to discuss that," he said, dodging the issue. "I need to send a report to my commander, Ultra Magnus. Can I leave Sari with you?"

"I'm her father. I should hope you could leave Sari with me."

For now, Optimus would have to believe so. They returned to his crew to transfer Sari from Bumblebee's servos to her father's arms and for Optimus to give his Autobots the traditional mobilizing command: transform and roll out.


	2. Chapter 2: Interior View

**Re-Sparked**  
by Tavalya Ra

Summary: In the aftermath of the space bridge's collapse, Optimus Prime navigates his crew through jarring revelations, changing relationships, and the unexpected assignment of another team member. Meanwhile, two old threats prepare to return with new plans: Megatron, who has teamed up with Starscream's intelligent and dangerous female clone, and Starscream himself, who is slowly merging with the AllSpark. This is just the prelude. AU: Season Three never happened and doesn't apply.

Rating: R for violence and sex

Warnings: Slash, sex, violence, and bad computer metaphors. Spoilers for the first two seasons of "Transformers Animated". Future installments in the series will have MPreg.

Disclaimer: "Transformers Animated" is owned by Hasbro, who probably doesn't care what I do as long as I keep buying their toys, and by Cartoon Network. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

* * *

**Chapter Two: Interior View**

Twilight had crept over Detroit and darkened the windows of the abandoned Sumdac plant that served as the Autobots' headquarters. The dimness discolored and distorted the objects within; Optimus felt as if he had entered a strange, new place rather than return to the familiar home he had left earlier in the day. Morning felt like it had occurred an entire stellar cycle ago.

_"Everyone still online?"_

_ "All but one."_

He looked over the faces of his crew. Not one appeared triumphant, happy, or even satisfied. Today hadn't been a failure, but it seemed like it. Optimus couldn't let them know how he, too, felt drained; as their leader, his responsibility was keeping their sparks aloft against odds and adversity.

"It's been a long and difficult day," he said. "But once we report to Ultra Magnus, it will be over and we can rest."

Bumblebee hummed, "Blurr…"

"Not now, kid," Ratchet gently quieted him.

"I haven't forgotten him, Bumblebee. The Elite Guard is in a much better position than us to find him- I'll make sure Ultra Magnus knows," promised Optimus. Blurr's fate- hurled helpless and trapped with screeching Decepticons into space unknown- was haunting, but all he personally could do was hope the intelligence bot had emerged into friendly territory and would be rescued soon.

The crew walked to their communications center. Prowl entered the code clearing them for a direct channel to Ultra Magnus, a privileged priority access that had been granted to them when officially charged with gathering the fragments of the AllSpark. Ultra Magnus' face appeared on screen accompanied by- what pinched Optimus' pipes to see- Sentinel Prime.

"Optimus Prime," the Supreme Commander addressed. "We received Guard member Blurr's initial report. What is your status?"

"Nice job _blowing_ Guard member Blurr's cover, by the way," Sentinel hurled at him. "Which of your junk bots needs to be scrapped for that?"

Ignoring the jab, Optimus answered his superior, "Objective achieved. The Decepticon space bridge was destroyed along with their headquarters. However, there were complications-"

"Aren't there always with you?" Sentinel suggested.

Ultra Magnus did not remark upon his attendant's impudence, only demanded of Optimus, "Explain."

Optimus did so, wishing anyone but Sentinel was present at the commander's side. His crew had acted with bravery and distinction today; now all they had done was being disregarded with open ridicule. Anger bit at him like rust as he watched Sentinel react to his recounting with disgusted head-shakes and even flashes of fury across flared optics. Finally, the Elite officer's sparkplug blew.

"You lost Blurr?" he screeched. "And these accusations against Longarm Prime- Longarm! I named him, he was my cadet-"

"Hey, so was I!" Bumblebee protested.

"Not for long as I recall, _Bumbler_-"

"Sentinel, maintain yourself," Ultra Magnus finally rebuked the Prime. "Dispatch a squad to take Longarm into custody."

Sentinel's meteoric jaw unhinged. "What!You can't be serious! Longarm is head of Autobot Intelligence! If we can't trust him, we can't trust anybody! Optimus Prime is obviously malfunctioning or he's been duped-"

"Better we should take Longarm into custody and confirm his innocence than allow a Decepticon agent to slip between our servos."

Rigidly, Sentinel pivoted and clanked off-screen; Optimus heard the beeping of whatever console the bot was utilizing to carry out Ultra Magnus' command.

"Optimus Prime, continue."

Little remained for him to tell; the end of the conflict had been jumbled and swift. He could vouch that Megatron had been sucked into the vortex and Omega Supreme after the Decepticon leader; anything else was his conjecture and he knew Ultra Magnus didn't want his opinions even if the commander would not sneer at them as Sentinel would.

The usual solemnity of Ultra Magnus' expression suddenly increased appreciably. His optical lenses focused somewhere in the space beyond Optimus' shoulder and he said, "I am sorry for your loss."

Optimus was confused- and then startled when Ratchet murmured without hesitation, "Thank you."

"Uh… excuse me." Sentinel's head popped back into the screen's range. "Are you saying that Optimus' ship was Omega Supreme?" In Optimus' mind, a very short countdown began- and at zero came the indignant cry, "You gave a space bridge maintenance crew _Omega Supreme_?"

"Omega Supreme's reclassification as _Teletran-1_ is public record," Ultra Magnus stated. The annoyance in his tone was very slight, but that it was present at all was telling.

"But-"

"Furthermore, _Teletran-1_ was not assigned to Optimus Prime. The ship shared Ratchet's assignment, as promised to them by their linked status."

However Sentinel reacted to that, Optimus never observed. He swerved around to find himself doing the same as every other bot in the room: stare with bland, bewildered shock at Ratchet.

With an irritated rumble of his engine, Ratchet scowled and said, "You're going to ask why I never told you. And my answer is look how you miscoded glitch heads are acting right now!"

"Wha-" Sentinel began _again_ and Ultra Magnus cut him off.

"A bulletin will be sent to all military personnel regarding Blurr's disappearance and a warning concerning Megatron's. At the soonest opportunity, a squadron will be designated for an active search. We must find Megatron before the Decepticons do. However, that presently is the Elite Guard's concern, not yours, Optimus. Direct your focus to retrieving the AllSpark's shards. Ultra Magnus out."

Except for the blip and brief moment of static as the transmission ceased, the room was quiet- the only sounds the passive whirrs of the Autobots' internal mechanisms. Optimus turned his head slightly, now looking at Ratchet from askance. He was ashamed at his immediate reaction to the revelation about the medi-bot, gawking at something deeply personal- at something precious he never would have guessed of his friend.

"Don't look at me like that," Ratchet said, voice angry and also awkward. Optimus wasn't anymore, but the others were.

"Let me get this straight," spoke Bumblebee incredulously. "You- I mean _you_- used to ping Omega Supreme?"

In a startling whip of motion Prowl smacked Bumblebee in the back of the head with the flat edge of one of his shuriken.

"Ow! What was-"

"For being rude," Prowl snapped. "And insensitive, and-"

"Shut up!" Ratchet growled, silencing both of them. "Yes, Omega Supreme and I were granted a command link. No, it's none of your business and I expect to never hear any of you ask about it again!"

Bumblebee bowed his head and mumbled, "Sorry."

_I thought they were only friends… _Dear friends, Ratchet had made that clear when he had spoken to Optimus privately of Omega Supreme and of the war. Yet the medi-bot said little enough of both, even though he had been forthcoming in talking of Arcee after their encounter with Lockdown. Optimus never would have guessed that Omega Supreme had been a mate.

"You know, this really…" Bumblebee began. His inflection swung from melancholic abashment to umbrage as his head swiveled from Ratchet to Bulkhead. "…is all your fault!"

"What? Me?" Bulkhead sputtered.

"Whoa-" began Optimus as Prowl similarly protested, "Now wait-"

"Oh, slag," Ratchet grumbled.

Rearing towards his accused, Bumblebee shouted, "Yeah, you! If you hadn't built that space bridge-"

"I-I didn't have a choice!" Bulkhead declared, his protest of innocence more penitent than insisting. "If I hadn't, Megatron would have destroyed you all- used _me_ to destroy you all, with the Headmaster unit-"

"Haven't you ever heard of _playing along_? Of _pretending_ to help?" the compact bot tossed the questions at him ferociously. "Did it ever occur to you that you didn't have to make the bridge _actually work_? No! You're just a big, dumb mudflap that-"

Although neither Bumblebee nor Bulkhead had made a threatening move, Prowl lunged between them and swung his right arm down in a chop. "That is uncalled for."

"Uncalled for!" Bumblebee's voice elevated to a shrill tone. "Omega Supreme is probably dead and Blurr-"

"Now, that's enough!" Optimus bellowed. This argument had gone too far. "Bumblebee, I'm not Bulkhead and neither are you. Why he made it work doesn't matter anymore-"

"Yes, it does!" The cry came from Bulkhead, his voice now defensive and also hurt. "There's one thing you all have in common. And it's the only difference between you guys and Megatron that I don't like. He believed I was smart enough to do it!"

The declaration stunned Optimus and the rest into silence. That wasn't true, he wanted to protest- except it was. When Blurr had told them of Bulkhead's expertise, all of them had responded with blunt disbelief. Optimus did think of Bulkhead positively- as kind and strong and loyal- but these were vague attributes. Mislead by the other bot's clumsiness, lack of dexterity, and simplistic outlook, he rarely considered Bulkhead's intelligence.

"Bulkhead…" he began weakly.

The bot turned away from Optimus with his overhead flaps lowered in dejection.

"I don't want to talk right now. And I'm pretty sure you don't want to talk to me either," he said. "I'm just gonna go be by myself for awhile."

He slowly clanked from the room. Optimus didn't want to let him go, but he respected Bulkhead's wishes- the other Autobot deserved his space.

Once Bulkhead was gone, Prowl turned to Bumblebee and scathingly drawled, "Nice."

"Hey!" Bumblebee retorted. "You give me a good reason why he made the bridge actually work!"

"How about that if he hadn't, we wouldn't have believed he made it fail on purpose?"

"_Soooo_ what? Now we know he has more than two cogs for a processor- and that's supposed to be worth losing-"

Barked Ratchet, "Either you mute it or I'll mute _you_!"

Bumblebee's optics narrowed and then flared into a glower. "How can I be the only one-"

"You're not, but the rest of us aren't stupid or arrogant enough to think we deserve a chunk of Bulkhead's plating," Ratchet declared, raising his fist for emphasis. "And if you whine 'Blurr' one more time, I'm going to dent you on the head! You barely knew him!"

"What! I- I don't know what-"

"Oh? Good! Then shut your clanking trap!"

"Enough!" Optimus commanded again. "The next bot who fires his ignition gets janitorial duty for the next orbital cycle!"

Bumblebee quieted, but did not appear mollified; Ratchet rotated away from the younger bot in disgust.

"Is this how we're going to act when something goes wrong? When we need each other more than ever? By tearing each other apart?" he persisted. "There were losses. But you're forgetting they weren't in vain. Today, we saved Cybertron!" That exclamation spent what little exuberance he had. Tiredly, he concluded, "Take the rest of the night off."

* * *

Optimus spent a megacycle to himself in silent reflection, reviewing the day and what should have been handled differently. He concluded that the Autobots could not have done anything to save Blurr or Omega Supreme without changing the problem at the core of the conflict: the existence and functionality of the Decepticon space bridge. While he understood Bumblebee's temptation to blame Bulkhead- and indeed, Optimus wished Bulkhead had attempted even a little subterfuge or double-dealing- he felt the critical error had been committed earlier and elsewhere: in the establishment of their chronic and automatic disregard of Bulkhead's skill. That would end now, Optimus decided.

As fighters, his crew had truly come together as a team. They knew each others' styles, rhythms, and abilities, how to complement each others' strengths. Yet off the battlefield, their welding showed its seams. Failure destabilized Bulkhead, whereas Bumblebee and Prowl didn't know when to quit or call for backup. And had any of those three dealt with loss before?

Causalities would happen. That was what one was taught at the Autobot Academy and what one accepted- or pretended to accept, treating the concept stoically and distantly… until it happened.

_Elita._

Was she alive? Where had she been today? If she was offline, it was Optimus' fault- no matter how or when she died, it would be Optimus' fault. He knew why Sentinel hated him; at the moment, he almost hated himself. Yet her fate was beyond him now, past. He had to focus on present and future, on the bots that were under his command currently.

Deciding he had ruminated enough, he went to Ratchet's room. The medi-bot was reviewing structural diagrams as Optimus knocked on the doorframe. Ratchet looked up and waved for him to enter, remarking in a grumble, "Thought you'd show up sometime."

_First rule of Ratchet: don't ask, he doesn't want to tell._ But he had to question, because he cared. "How are you holding up?"

"Wheels still spinning. Anything you need to get off your chest plate?" Ratchet asked, being unusually friendly in suggesting his Prime mind his own business.

"I'm a little confused about the exchange you had earlier with Bumblebee. Is there something going on between him and Blurr that I don't know about?"

Ratchet grunted and rotated his optics. "Only in his swapfile- if he's even aware of it."

"What do you mean?"

"Hero-worship. Like all notions that get to buzzing in Bumblebee's processor, this hit him swift and hard. Blurr is everything he wants to be: independent, Elite Guard, _fast_. So, his fate is going to hit the kid a little harder than the rest of us."

Optimus nodded. That made sense. Once, he would have felt the same towards Ultra Magnus.

"So…" he began and stopped. Ratchet had said he never wanted to hear it mentioned. Yet Optimus could not abide silently assuming the other bot was well and could console himself. They weren't designed to be solitary entities- what Ratchet had lost for a second time today spoke towards that fact.

"Just ask," Ratchet said unexpectedly. The light behind his optics seemed slightly dimmed, but Optimus suspected he only imagined that as it fit well with the strained traces of grief beginning to emerge in Ratchet's expression. "I know that's why you're here."

"I'm here for you. If you don't want to talk-"

"I think I do," he replied. "I don't care what the others think. Half the time I think I wouldn't twitch if something scrapped them, but I would like you to understand."

In no hurry- Optimus had as much time as his friend needed- he waited for Ratchet to gather his thoughts and begin.

"I met Omega in the war, of course. This might sound strange for someone designed as the ultimate and final weapon, but he was quite gentle." Ratchet smiled- unconsciously, Optimus guessed. "He always wanted my memory clips of wherever we were stationed, places he was too big to explore himself. He was our transport ship, you see, just in case he was needed." The medi-bot's face sobered again. "Most of the other bots didn't talk to him much. They didn't like that the ship was watching, they wanted to forget they weren't in the standard, non-sentient unit. I didn't mind. He was my friend." Ratchet's optics closed, a brief shutter. "Then… you know how he died. Everyone knows how Omega Supreme gave his spark to end the Great War- just as designed. For that reason, he could never be linked. Being linked guarantees your mate always goes with you wherever you do. He wouldn't have dared asked anyone to die with him, even if they would have said yes."

_But you did say yes_, Optimus thought and recognized a conundrum. If Ratchet was Omega Supreme's link-mate, why had he remained online? He would have been there during the great Autobot's final stand, so how had he survived?

Did Ratchet think he shouldn't have survived?

The explanation rendered Optimus' unspoken questions irrelevant. "Omega left a series of last requests with Ultra Magnus. He thought his body might survive and he wanted to go to me. He wanted us to be linked." Ratchet gave a weak, frustrated smiled. "I had no idea he had felt that way, but I thought what did it matter? He was offline and he had been such a great friend to me. I wanted to do something to acknowledge that, even if he'd never know. So I accepted. That's how I became link-mate to Cybertron's greatest hero's empty shell."

"That's why you don't talk about it. Why we didn't know," Optimus realized. Their link wasn't a bond of affinity, but a memorial to a relationship only dreamed, never countenanced. "When you and Sari restored his spark, did you tell him?"

"I wanted to. I didn't get the chance. Oh, what I wanted to say was foolish anyway!" he declared pessimistically. "I've had two million stellar cycles to stream every conversation we ever had, to reinterpret and misinterpret it- but those are my memories, not him. When that's all you have to summon a sense of affection, I don't know if you can call it…" He shook his head and turned away. "I wish he were here."

Stepping towards the other bot, Optimus lightly placed a servo on his shoulder. "He might still be out there. Bulkhead thinks so… and I think we haven't been giving Bulkhead enough credit."

"You'd think that would be a nice thought," replied Ratchet. "But if he's out there… wherever he is… I have a suspicion it's not good."

She had no name. Her creator- her template- had never seen fit to provide her or her spark-brothers with personal designations. Yet her spark-brothers were easy to give appellations: the Liar, the Flatterer, the Coward, the Egotist. Unlike her. She was more complicated, she was something else. She was the _Other_. When her maker had inquired what part of him she represented, she had snapped, "Don't ask," in confusion as well as irritation. The best she could describe herself was as the undeceived, the true-speaking voice of doubt. She saw without illusion the many flaws of Starscream that her originator's shame compelled him to ignore. And for them- that they were a part of herself- she hated him.

"I love the cheery colors of this ship!" declared the Liar, smacking his fists against the computer console blaring alarms at him.

"Oh, yes!" agreed the Flatterer. "It's quite thrilling to ride in the corpse of our greatest enemy, Omega Supreme!"

"Except that he's not quite dead!" she- the Other- snapped and pulled her servo away from a panel that had begun shooting sparks at her. "We have to take control of this ship if we want to get out of here sometime in the next tens of stellar cycles!"

Or to even coax _Teletran-1_'s navigation system into showing where "here" was. The details leading to the Other's present circumstances disoriented her. She and the two remaining Starscream clones had narrowly dodged a blast from Omega Supreme and had flown back to Megatron's space bridge only to discover said bridge self-destructing and Megatron gone, presumably sucked through it. The trio had been the bridge's next victims; the Autobots hadn't even noted their brief presence, distracted by the arrival of Omega Supreme. The giant had, of course, passed through the space bridge after them- then the vortex had collapsed, stranding them in a cold and nameless star field.

Omega Supreme's spark was weak. They had thought it extinguished watching him revert to vehicle mode and the Other had decided they should board him. Yet once they had reached the bridge, _Teletran-1_'s system had resisted their commands and locked them inside. The Other quietly feared Omega Supreme had lured them into the shelter of his body to destroy them.

_I refuse to die like this- to be crushed like an insignificant speck! I am-_

She had no name.

She wanted to live to be given a name.

Her optic scanners swept the bridge. Other than their personal modifications- Starscream's null-ray blasters and jet rockets- their equipment was what they had dragged onto _Teletran-1_ from the space bridge rubble, including the original Starscream's headless body and the surprisingly intact Headmaster unit. The Headmaster had the startling ability to hijack even a Cybertronian machine, yet if even the Other could miraculously force Omega Supreme into robot mode, the unit couldn't sever and replaced his gargantuan head.

_Maybe there's still a way the Headmaster can be utilized… a way without decapitation!_

She sprung over the command console and pried the paneling off of the Starscream body's arm. Its interfacing cables were still intact. Spark-lifted, she began carefully extracting the cables from the independent components embedded around them.

"I have an idea- just keep trying to hack the ship's processor. Keep it occupied!" she ordered.

"Oh, brilliant! Brilliant!" chimed the Flatterer. "I knew you would be the one to save us. You're so clever!"

"I bet your plan is ridiculous. I have utterly no faith in you," said the Liar.

The Other looked up and gave the Liar a smile, deciding that she liked him better than the Flatterer. Yet she hardly cared after the fate of either of them. She would save them by saving herself and then would distance herself from them. They were bits of Starscream, but she was her own self- and she would have a name.


	3. Chapter 3: Dawning in Detroit

**Re-Sparked**  
by Tavalya Ra

Summary: In the aftermath of the space bridge's collapse, Optimus Prime navigates his crew through jarring revelations, changing relationships, and the unexpected assignment of another team member. Meanwhile, two old threats prepare to return with new plans: Megatron, who has teamed up with Starscream's intelligent and dangerous female clone, and Starscream himself, who is slowly merging with the AllSpark. This is just the prelude. AU: Season Three never happened and doesn't apply.

Rating: R for violence and sex

Warnings: Slash, sex, violence, and bad computer metaphors. Spoilers for the first two seasons of "Transformers Animated". Future installments in the series will have MPreg.

Disclaimer: "Transformers Animated" is owned by Hasbro, who probably doesn't care what I do as long as I keep buying their toys, and by Cartoon Network. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

* * *

**Chapter Three: Dawning in Detroit**

From certain angles Bulkhead's overhead flaps looked to Prowl like a crane's wings swooping downward. An odd and perhaps ill-fitting comparison, he acknowledged. Bulkhead would assuredly be flightless even if most Autobots weren't already ground vehicles. It simply struck him that there was an aspect of grace to Bulkhead's otherwise cumbersome form. He watched the bot approach a cargo ship with the Sumdac Systems logo painted on the side and wondered why everyone, self included, so often overlooked Bulkhead's finer details.

Bulkhead leaned over and began unwinding the chain that tethered the ship to the dock. Approaching, Prowl questioned, "Express tug to Dinobot Island?"

The larger bot froze, then slowly righted himself. Morosely, he responded, "So, you decided to follow me. Or did Prime send you to follow me?"

"Neither. I know you said you wanted to be alone, but I thought you might like being alone together."

Sighing, Bulkhead began, "I don't know…"

"As stated, I didn't follow you. I suspected I would find you here. Dinobot Island is oddly tranquil in its wildness- I find it a refuge from the noise and hustle of the city. You and I are alike in that."

A moment's pause- time enough for a single cricket's chirp- then Bulkhead turned. An indefinable glimmer showed in his optics.

"Alright."

They did not get on the boat. To the island and back was too far a journey before sunrise; Prowl suggested the park, which was quiet at this hour. The gawking crowds that initially had driven him away from Detroit's tamed patch of greenery were gone; the few evening strollers glanced at them in surprise but respected their peace. They stopped at a grassy square surrounded by trees. At the level of a human's eyes, the leafy foliage obscured any view of the towering buildings which surrounded the park, creating the illusion of displacement from the city. Prowl could experience this effect if he squatted and focused his optics downward, but Bulkhead probably saw the tops of the skyscrapers just above the forestry. Perhaps they should have gone to Dinobot Island after all, Prowl thought guiltily, until he glanced over at his friend and noted a lessening of the anxiety in his eyes.

The sound of traffic's flow- the whirrs, mild screeches, and beeps- audible from their position was achingly reminiscent of the noise of Cybertron. Yet Prowl could hear, too, the exotic chirps and warbles of the park's small wild inhabitants. The near was distant and vice versa: Cybertron familiar light years away, nature outlandish and alien right at his servo. He allowed his audio sensors to record the mingled sounds passively, refraining from separating and identifying them in his processor- he heard and did not evaluate. He remained still and simply was. In this, in being, he was centered.

"Tell me what you're thinking. I'm here to listen."

Bulkhead's response was quick and certain, suggesting he had spent the proceeding cycles of calm articulating his answer. "I feel more than like I messed up. I feel like nobody gives me a chance to do anything but mess up. I'm not asking for praise or anything. I just want to do what I do without everyone assuming I can't before I even try."

_We all have our own manner of going about the business of existence. We all assume our way is best. And when someone does not hold this assumption about himself, when someone is curious, we assume they are confused or stupid and require guidance…_ "I'm sorry."

"Huh? Why? You and Sari are usually the ones who think I can."

"I'm sorry for the trees," Prowl clarified. "I suggested you add trees to your painting and I shouldn't have. It was your vision, not mine."

"It's okay," Bulkhead said. Suddenly he smiled. "Just means I know what to make you for your construction day!"

Prowl smiled back. "You're very talented. I shouldn't have been so surprised when Blurr told us you're an expert at space bridges. I already knew you're good with them."

"I didn't know I was an expert either, just that I scored high on all the aptitude tests," confessed Bulkhead. His tone became somber. "Bumblebee and Prime, they acted like it's impossible I could be good at it- at the one thing I really _know_ I know. Or that me knowing it was a bad thing. And I wonder if they're right. It's my fault we needed Omega Supreme-"

"No!" His response was immediate. He laid his servo over Bulkhead's. "You did what you had to. What you _could_ do. Bumblebee is angry and it's easier to deal with anger if one has something external to blame. If not you, he would be ranting at another one of us. Prime… he's a product of the academy…"

"Prime treats me okay, but I know he doesn't think much of me. You heard him, he said he didn't understand how I could be an expert."

"Like Bumblebee, he was just venting his frustration. Don't take to spark what he said. It was wrong of him."

"They make me feel so useless sometimes. It's what they think. Just because…" Bulkhead raised his hands and pinched his large digits together. "I am what I am. I'm big and I'm clunky, but that's how I was constructed. That's not _who_ I am. That's what I like about art. The canvas doesn't argue with me. It doesn't say I can't. It lets me do and if I mess up, it doesn't say it knew all along I would."

How incisive- and completely spontaneous and unconscious. Prowl admired, even envied that: how Bulkhead had grown to know himself without needing to be _aware_ of it. Prowl put such effort into being- the others didn't know how deliberate he was, of that he was certain. He kept hold of himself because he knew himself. When he lost his restraint, he became reckless and prideful. But this discussion was about Bulkhead, not him.

"We're learning. We came to this planet full of misconceptions about ourselves, about each other. At first, I didn't want to listen to anyone. I didn't see why I needed anyone. Other bots aren't dependable and the only one you can trust is the only one you should _need_ to trust," he said. "That philosophy almost took me offline. But you and Bumblebee, Ratchet, Prime… you saved me. The value of teammates- of friends- is something Earth taught me very quickly. Give Prime and Bumblebee time. In their sparks they trust you, but habits are hard to debug. And don't feel lonely. If you need me, I'll be beside you."

Bulkhead gave Prowl a timid look, cautious and overcome. "You mean that?"

"I do." He'd been casual in his relationship with Bulkhead before, but he felt strongly that he wanted to change that- that Bulkhead deserved a friend who could be steadfast.

"Maybe you're right. Bumblebee's just like this. And Prime really cares about us. I think you are right." With a nod and slightly crooked smile, he concluded, "Thanks for talking to me."

_You're welcome_, was the standard response and what Prowl intended to say. Yet from his speaker came, "You're so able to forgive. I remember once thinking I could teach you so much. Now, I think you have a lot you could teach me."

At that Bulkhead burst into a sudden guffaw. "You? You're kidding. What could I teach you?"

"How to be kind for a start."

"You're not mean! Well, Bumblebee thinks you are, but he doesn't get bots that aren't like him. Hey, you're always looking out for us, giving really good advice."

"That's not the same…" Prowl began and stopped. Why was he talking about this? "I am concerned with fixing problems when they affect me. My team affects me. It's that simple."

"You're being modest. We all look up to you. Well, I do." Bulkhead paused and then added, "Metaphorically."

_Stop now. Before you ruin this_, he ordered himself. Looking into Bulkhead's optics, he said, "We don't talk enough. We should change that. I value your friendship."

"Yeah, yours, too."

* * *

Morning touched Detroit's sky, their view of the rising sun imperfect and delayed by the trees and scrapers which stood between them and the horizon. But the day breaking was still beautiful, Prowl reflected, and there would be many future dawns to share.

_I've never watched the sun rise with anyone before_, he realized and turned to look at Bulkhead. The other bot's olive plating had a coppery sheen in the light and his face was placidly contemplative.

"I want to paint a sunrise," said Bulkhead. "I just need to find a good spot where I can see it and set up a canvas. I know I could paint from a memory clip, but it's not the same. There's something I… I can't _get_ into the painting if I do it that way. I'm not sure how to explain."

"It's alright. I think I understand," Prowl replied. He watched nature shows on television for knowledge, but he wasn't satisfied unless he later witnessed the same phenomenon himself. It was not the same and Bulkhead knew that; he, like Prowl, was an observer. "Have you ever seen a butterfly emerge from a chrysalis? I'll have to show you. It's amazing how this world isn't like Cybertron- how it _grows_," he continued. Then he sighed and shook his head. "And we won't even be able to talk about it when we leave here. Organics terrify everyone else."

"Maybe they're scarier on other planets," Bulkhead suggested. "That Decepticon Blackarachnia, she used to be normal. Then something happened to her."

"I know Prime used to know her…"

"I think Prime thinks it was his fault."

Prowl was startled. "He does? What happened?"

Shrugging, the other bot answered, "I don't know. He just said he left her behind."

Interesting- or would be if he chose to dwell upon it. Much of their Prime's past was an inaccessible data file to them and Prowl respected that out of empathy. His joints stiffened thinking someone might actively wonder about his history; it was no bot's business but his own.

_Listen. _Birdsong, scattered footfalls, sporadic traffic, the whirr of his processor and of Bulkhead's. He let the noise fill him and quickly calmed. Why had he tensed at all? He faced no adversity and Bulkhead's presence was an affable one. _I am a hypocrite. I preach stillness and focus, yet am only comfortable when mine is directed outward._

"We should head back now," he said, speaking gently and keeping his tone pleasant despite his sudden melancholy.

Bulkhead's smile was worth the ruse. "Alright."

They left the park and transformed, leisurely driving back to headquarters. As they approached, something whipped around the corner nearly crashing into them. From its bright color, not to mention its obnoxious and peculiar honk, the vehicle's identity was unmistakable: Bumblebee.

"Where's the fire?" Bulkhead questioned.

"Nowhere. Prime would be following him if there was one," Prowl replied, apathetic towards Bumblebee's departure. If the compact still wanted to sulk or fume better he do it elsewhere anyway.

Returning to robot mode, they entered the building. Optimus Prime stood with his arms folded and an expression of resigned discontentment, his optics directed at Bumblebee's smog trail. He turned towards them as they approached.

"Good, you're back," he said.

"What's got Bumblebee burning rubber?" asked Bulkhead.

"Yesterday's news," answered Prime. Then his optics' focus tightened. "Bulkhead, can we talk? There are a few things I feel need to be said."

"Sure, boss-bot."

_This isn't a conversation for me_, Prowl recognized yet was reluctant to leave. Obviously Prime wanted to discuss the day before, but what did he intend to say? Although Prowl had begun to describe their leader as just an "academy bot" to Bulkhead yesterday that had been meant as an allaying exaggeration. The framework of Prime's methodology reflected his training, but he displayed a laudable willingness to adapt and a desire to understand. If he was going to reprimand Bulkhead, Prowl trusted Prime to tailor his approach to his subordinate and couch the rebuke gently- however, he felt indignation that Prime would fault the other bot's actions. Didn't the others realize how thoughtless they were in evaluating Bulkhead?

"I'll be in my room," he announced and patted Bulkhead's elbow joint, hoping to convey the message of "join me later"_._

Prowl's room was his sanctuary. His teammates, he knew, did not understand why he would want a ceiling with chunks missing or a huge organic sprouting from the floor, but he loved it and thought of it as his: his sunlight, his tree. Decoration he kept simple, using the artifacts of a particular Earth culture with a philosophy he found profound and intriguing. His workstation was a subordinate feature of the room, contained in its own small space. He approached the tree and sat on its roots, folding his legs crossed beneath himself. As he had in the park, he focused on the perceptions of his sensors. Processor cleared, he then allowed thoughts to form.

Circuit-Su was the application of will as a force and the understanding of its intimate connection to one's spark. It was rumored that the purest form of the art was direct manipulation of one's own spark energy. Prowl believed that, although he had not thought of himself as having reached that level- until yesterday. Using only his processor's focus to break open the stasis cuffs had been something of an act of desperation; he was disciplined enough to put aside his emotions so that his alarm and doubt had not clouded his mind during his attempt. Now, after the fact, he found his success a cause for marveling. Could he replicate the feat? He wanted to try- it wouldn't take much goading for him to get Bumblebee to cuff him, although he worried the little bot wouldn't be as quick to release him if he failed in freeing himself.

Beyond his door he heard a thudding tread, counterpointed by a light tap to his entryway.

"Come in," Prowl instructed, knowing from the footfalls his visitor was Bulkhead.

Pulling open the door, Bulkhead entered. Prowl was surprised to see him smiling and eagerly prompted, "Well? What did Prime have to say?"

"He apologized! I thought he was going to tell me how I messed up, but he said he was sorry! And that he's glad I'm part of his team and a bunch of other stuff. You know he meant it. He likes giving pep talks, but you can tell he really means it. Not like some other Primes."

The contented tone of Bulkhead's voice Prowl found heartening. "I'm glad."

"So what are you up to?" the other bot asked.

"Meditating," Prowl replied. Then, after a click's consideration, offered, "Would you like to join me?"

"Sure!" Bulkhead declared. "Uh… how do you meditate?"

Prowl gave a soft chortle. "It's not difficult. I bet you already know how to do it. Let me explain…"


	4. Chapter 4: Trojans Waiting

**Re-Sparked**  
by Tavalya Ra

Summary: In the aftermath of the space bridge's collapse, Optimus Prime navigates his crew through jarring revelations, changing relationships, and the unexpected assignment of another team member. Meanwhile, two old threats prepare to return with new plans: Megatron, who has teamed up with Starscream's intelligent and dangerous female clone, and Starscream himself, who is slowly merging with the AllSpark. This is just the prelude. AU: Season Three never happened and doesn't apply.

Rating: R for violence and sex

Warnings: Slash, sex, violence, and bad computer metaphors. Spoilers for the first two seasons of "Transformers Animated". Future installments in the series will have MPreg.

Disclaimer: "Transformers Animated" is owned by Hasbro, who probably doesn't care what I do as long as I keep buying their toys, and by Cartoon Network. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

* * *

**Chapter Four: Trojans Waiting**

Isaac Sumdac had not set out to revolutionize his world. He had only wanted to tinker in the field he loved most, robotics. Nor had he decades ago foreseen the most advanced of his accomplishments: Sari. He loved his daughter and felt pride for her- he'd sought the best for her education and growth and had found a somewhat hands-off approach appeared to work well towards that. Yet now, as it seemed with everything else of significance in his life, his care for her had turned disastrous.

Their first night back in the tower Sari couldn't look at her room, remodeled into part laboratory and part junk comic book store, without crying. Isaac knew her distress wasn't solely for the room; the room was symptomatic of the greater tribulations she had endured. They slept together in his room while automatons cleared out Masterson's trash, repainted the walls, and assembled new bedroom furniture. Sari clung close, yet he intuitively felt a distance between them. She was relieved he was safe and near, but her trust in him was shaken.

The next day as a treat he ordered Indian takeout for lunch. Technically it was the food of his cultural heritage, yet no one in his family- even his father, the culinary expert- had ever cooked it; he had only eaten it prepared by a restaurant. They dined picnic-style in his private lab, the one place he could guarantee confidentiality, and he tried not to dwell upon the fact that the dais where they sat had formerly been the resting place of Megatron's head.

"Sari…" he began and almost as quickly stopped. He watched her sop up some excess vindaloo sauce with a chunk of naan and bite it. She wasn't looking at him. "I want you to understand, I always meant to tell you this. I just wanted to wait for you to be older to explain-"

"Explain what?" she suddenly snapped. She raised her eyes towards him and in their gleam was hurt. "That I'm a cybernetic _freak_, an experiment-"

"No, no! You are none of those-"

Tears welling, she cried, "I'm a-"

"A cyborg," he insisted firmly, before her suppositions could grow more extreme. "That means you are human, Sari. You just have robotic parts."

"Yeah, like my whole arm!" she shouted, raising the left example of the offending appendage.

"Well, yes." _And your heart. And your eyes. And your spinal cord and peripheral nervous system- _He aborted the list tallying in his mind. "But you are-"

_"The next stage in human evolution!_" he remembered another's voice declaring. _"Smarter, stronger, faster, longer living…"_

He did not want to repeat that to Sari. It would sound as if he thought of her as a prototype or a toy.

"You are my daughter. And who you are is more important than what you are- but I must tell you what you are because you deserve to know."

She stared at him- then a sob broke from her mouth and the tears in her eyes flowed.

"Dad…" She lunged forward and was in his arms, seeking his affirmation of her.

"Shhh… I'm here, Sari. I'm here." He hugged her tightly. He could still hold and comfort her, which meant everything would soon aright. He waited for her to calm and asked, "Better?"

She nodded, wiping her eyes.

"We don't have to talk about this now…"

"No, I want to know."

Isaac took a breath, giving himself a pause. He'd never successfully envisioned how this conversation would start or progress. All he could do was begin.

"I had a very good friend- a childhood friend, a biotech engineer, absolutely brilliant in his field. He and I, we- well, it doesn't matter now."

_"Just try to imagine it, Isaac. Our last names on the side of some big, ugly, corporate glass building."_

_ "Whose would go first? Yours alphabetically-"_

_ "Oh, I don't care! That's not the point."_

Shaking away the bright memory, he continued, "We wanted to do a project together, the ultimate fusion of biology and robotics. The best of both. You."

_"Project Galatea. What? You know my family has a thing for Greek names."_

How to explain to Sari what she was without it sounding like a sales pitch? "You have enhanced attributes- strength, durability, intelligence. I'm sure you never realized this. You haven't had any basis for comparison. But the math Tutor Bot has been teaching you is well above the third grade level and…" And he was starting to babble, the way he did about new projects. "But that's all, Sari. You're not a robot. That's all."

From the look of dull horror on her face, he knew she didn't believe him. "I was an experiment!"

"No!" Yes- but no. Not in the way that counted. "Making you, that method… yes, it had never been done before. But you, Sari, you aren't an experiment or anything of the sort!"

He had always been conscious that what he would create was a child- and that the process could go horribly awry. Thank God Sari had been born perfect to the parameters, but if she had not been he still would love her, for as long as he had her to love.

Unswayed, her accusations continued, "And this friend- who is he? Why haven't I met him!"

"We _were_ friends. But he insisted that he achieve success on his own- not as my partner- before we collaborated. His company didn't do so well and he…" More memories. A past that reflecting upon wounded him. "We became rivals. Or rather, he saw us that way. He doesn't know what you are, Sari, or that I carried out our plans without him. It's for the best that way."

"Why? Who-" Sari's voice ended in an awkward squeak, eyes widening. "No. This guy, he's not…"

The only other person who had known about Megatron's head, because Isaac had told him the very next day when they still had been teenagers.

"…not Prometheus Black?"

He could deny it, but he didn't feel it was shameful, just incredible how the years could change someone. "Yes."

"_Meltdown_?" she shrieked. "You were friends with _Meltdown_?"

"His turning to acid is a recent development-"

"Meltdown! Jeez, Dad! Do you naturally attract psychotic beings or just go looking for them?"

He frowned- then smiled. His daughter was being rude, sarcastic, and disrespectful- altogether normal, a sign she was rebounding from her shock.

"We do know some characters, I suppose. But he and Megatron are gone. Things will be peaceful now, Sari."

But he'd been too quick to assume her recovery. Suddenly quivering, Sari asked, "Dad… he's not… I'm not…"

"What is it, Sari?"

"We're not…" She blinked, but her eyes remained clouded. "We're not related, are we? He's not…"

There was more than one possible to answer to that question. Yet Isaac's hesitancy to respond inadvertently revealed the genetic truth.

Sari screamed. Unfortunately, her shriek was not a normal human cry- it was a sonic pulse that temporarily paralyzed human and machine. Isaac, although he had programmed it, was not immune to it. It was a few seconds before he recovered and by that time she had already run from the lab.

* * *

Though Megatron did not boast of it to others, he was proud of his well-constructed body: excellent and efficient in artful combat. Yet what he valued most of himself was his intelligence, the swift and decisive processor linked with his vital spark. Now, slowly rotating in the void unable to move- unable to twitch or even blink, unable to do anything but vocalize- he realized and faced the substance of his worst fear: that he might go insane.

Were he to spend the eons in solitude, he would not feel so anxious. By far he preferred his own company to anyone else- another facet of his psyche he wisely did not broadcast. No, what would eventually fuse his motherboard and overload his circuits beyond repair was the unceasing and grating nattering of _Starscream_.

"Do you know why I hate you?" the infuriating floating head demanded. "Do you!"

"Yes!" he barked, beyond weary of Starscream enumerating what the obtuse, glitch-wired brick perceived as his multitude of flaws. "For once, spare us _both_ the strain of your audio processes and-"

Of course, Starscream's aural recognition malfunctioned and the head continued to rattle and rasp, "Because you never listen to me! We almost had Cybertron! Four million stellar cycles ago we were so close, then you drew back to chase the AllSpark! You ordered retreat! I told you it was stupid, but you still-"

"This is your deficiency, Starscream- that you cannot visualize beyond the next nanoclick!" he thundered. "At that juncture, we had only the numbers to capture Cybertron but not hold it. The losses would have been astronomical- why am I arguing this? My decision was correct, my logic sound- I do not care what a microprocessor such as _you_ thinks!"

And this was why he feared his sanity degrading: he argued with Starscream. Indignation riled him to hastily justify choices of the past that his former second denounced and reframed as treasonous or cowardly- choices whose wisdom Megatron had not questioned since making them. But Starscream had become a worm to his system- against the cold stars and cosmic dust, everything had become unreasonably muddled with that goading head squawking and squawking and _never shutting up_. He was afraid of losing his mind, he was afraid of Starscream becoming cognizant of his erosive effect upon him, he was afraid of Starscream _winning_.

And he was enraged simply to know fear.

"Tell me," Megatron began, his voice possessing its usual modulation: show nothing, give nothing. He would not allow Starscream to be the sole aggressor. Let the Seeker defend something! "I know of no particular genius you possess. How is it that _you_ have rigged that AllSpark fragment to keep you alive, when I have rent you apart and seen your spark chamber empty?"

"Oh, yes, mock what you do not understand, Mega-fool!" Starscream snarled. "The answer only proves my worthiness as leader! I needed to do nothing- it chose me, welded itself to me, and mademe immortal! The AllSpark itself has selected _me_, Megatron, and I will lead the Decepticons long after your body has rotted away to a heap of rusted bolts!"

"Bold words coming from only a head," he sneered, but deep within his mechanism he felt disturbed. Starscream's arcane resurrecting ability was a bungle on the cosmic scale: the idiot had simply had the confounding luck of his corpse falling on an AllSpark fragment. Yet Starscream would not be the only one to misconstrue such an accident as fate. Some Decepticons were superstitious. Some followed Megatron frivolously believing him ordained their redeemer by whatever forces shaped the universe, nonsense Megatron allowed as it was potent propaganda for a significant faction of his race. Those same Decepticons could be swayed to fierce devotion towards anyone offering tangible evidence of being marked by a mystic power- and in that fact lay staggering potential for Starscream.

_No one else can know of this. I must-_

Megatron killed the thread. He did not allow himself to plan. He was in stasis lock and could do nothing. Subsisting on the hope of rescue seemed weak and a trap for embitterment and insanity. Any chance of being located was remote and infinitesimal; the strong rejected all delusions, even if doing so meant acknowledging a situation as fruitless and immutable- especially when this was so. All left to Megatron was his character and he would not compromise it. Though his awareness might amount to nothing now, he still would not squander it on ineffectual dreams of what might be.

"We will never be found," he said to Starscream, "which means whoever takes my place, it will not be _you_, who would destroy us all by throwing us recklessly at the Autobots like blunt rocks! Your arrogance is inversely proportionate to your sense of tactics and you-"

He stopped as one of his passive sensors detected propulsion of an object significantly larger than himself in close proximity. Well, that was a bit of a smash to the faceplate- to be disproven while still uttering the culprit statement. Before any stirring of excitement could begin- before he could dare hope- the ship entered his fixed range of vision and he saw its colors: orange and red. Autobot.

Starscream somehow managed to spin his head around and, seeing the starship, declared jubilantly, "I'm saved!"

"You idiot," rumbled Megatron. "That is the enemy."

_Some compact with an engine block for a processor will spring an oil leak when he realizes who I am_, he thought, resigned. He knew what would happen to him: the crew of this ship would stow him on board and either make pathetic gestures to humiliate him or regard him with fear until they turned him over to Ultra Magnus for a tedious and extraneous interrogation- for he would never tell the Autobots anything but strategic disinformation and their Magnus knew that. From there, he would be sent to a penal plant; the Autobots, out of their prideful following of a fallacious sense of mercy, would not take him offline. In that he had one advantage: time. He would escape and now, finally, he could plan knowing it was not a futile exercise. Perhaps he could trick the cadets on the ship into releasing his stasis lock and avoid the misadventure of prison altogether. Or freed he could allow his perceived capture to continue. He would likely be processed through a remote Elite Guard intelligence station before being sent to Cybertron. Hacking their database would be a coup, especially if- as he suspected- Shockwave had been revealed; wrecking the station personally afterward would be a rallying boost for his kind. His processor hummed with possibilities, plans, contingencies to them; frantically alive again, Starscream's ranting and cursing was a faint buzz that did not register.

As the ship neared, Megatron recognized its familiarity in more than color; it was the same model as used by the Autobots of Earth. No, it was the _exact same ship_. Had they, too, been sucked through the space bridge to this lonely, rubble-strewn sector of the universe? Any rescue was far better than none and Megatron would know whom he faced, but he was disappointed; this Prime and his crew were stubborn and competent.

"What are they going to do to us?" Starscream questioned. "If those Autobot scum touch me, I'll… I'll…"

"You'll what? Bite them?"

"Well, that's more than _you_ can do right now!"

"Here's a profoundly stupid question. Do you know Circuit-Su?"

"What?"

"Never mind. Shut up."

Whoever piloted _Teletran-1_ was either an expert or a fool; the ship came so close as to almost scrap them, then stopped with its cargo bay positioned in front of them. The door opened to present Megatron with a surprise.

"You," he said simply. Not a face he expected and he didn't know if it represented a boon or a challenge. It was aggravatingly and dishearteningly identical to the one at which he'd stared and argued for the past solar cycles.

"You!" Starscream shrieked. "You, you traitor!"

"Oh, shut up," the teal-colored Seeker snapped tiredly. "Greetings, Lord Megatron. Did you have a nice orbit?"

"Spare me your wit- or is that what aspect of Starscream you represent?" he countered.

The Seeker scowled. Doing so she looked very much like Starscream, but then she _was_ Starscream- or a piece of him. Megatron had learned quickly that the clones each represented a different facet of their progenitor, although they were all treacherously opportunistic. "I have a proposal."

"I am your captive audience."

"I take you on board, release you from stasis lock, and turn command over to you. In return, I require two things."

"Which are?" he inquired, concealing his displeasure. He doubted her requests would be anything small and he was in poor position to barter.

"First, you appoint me your second-in-command."

"Ah." Unrestrained and unmerited ambition. The true mark of a Starscream.

"Second…" Her eyes narrowed, as if she stared at Megatron in challenge- or wanted to gather her own resolve. "You will name me."

"I'll give you a name!" Starscream cried shrilly. "I've got a nice, five-letter Earth word that-"

"Weren't you already told to shut up?" Megatron insisted.

He spoke as if untroubled, but his mind was weighted and pensive. She wanted a name- which meant Starscream had not given her one and, more significantly, she had not given herself one. She asked Megatron to determine her identity- which, in essence, was giving her identity to _him_.

_"Any leader has to be an improvement over you!_" Had she turned upon Starscream because she was a Starscream, treacherous to the spark? Or was a competent leader what she desired- did she, unlike her originator, recognize the position in which she would excel and best forward the Decepticon cause? Unlike the other clones, Megatron hadn't discerned what part of Starscream she was- perhaps an aspect of Starscream lost and obscured for stellar cycles, the reason Megatron had originally chosen the Seeker as his second. It was possible, but he needed time to determine that and liberty to shoot the female clone through her spark chamber if she proved otherwise.

"I know only the most fragmented bytes about you- that you are a Starscream and little else," he said. "Take me onto the ship and we will discuss what you have to offer as my lieutenant."

If she refused, he would backpedal, accept her offer, and then take her offline at the soonest chance. If, however, she agreed…

She nodded. "Very well. Let me get the tether- and what do you want me to do about that piece of scrap?" Her finger pointed at Starscream's head.

"We will take it with us," Megatron determined. "I know better than to leave him at my back- any part of him."

"You're all going to pay for this!" Starscream shouted. "When I have a body again-"

"You are insufferable!" his clone declared.

_How nice to hear someone else say it for a change_, Megatron decided- a point in the female's favor. But he would not act unguarded towards her; he knew her source and even if she not a Starscream now, she still could become one.


	5. Chapter 5: Oracle

**Re-Sparked**  
by Tavalya Ra

Summary: In the aftermath of the space bridge's collapse, Optimus Prime navigates his crew through jarring revelations, changing relationships, and the unexpected assignment of another team member. Meanwhile, two old threats prepare to return with new plans: Megatron, who has teamed up with Starscream's intelligent and dangerous female clone, and Starscream himself, who is slowly merging with the AllSpark. This is just the prelude. AU: Season Three never happened and doesn't apply.

Rating: R for violence and sex

Warnings: Slash, sex, violence, and bad computer metaphors. Spoilers for the first two seasons of "Transformers Animated". Future installments in the series will have MPreg.

Disclaimer: "Transformers Animated" is owned by Hasbro, who probably doesn't care what I do as long as I keep buying their toys, and by Cartoon Network. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

* * *

**Chapter Five: Oracle**

Bumblebee returned to headquarters in the afternoon, as he had been ordered earlier when he had zoomed off in a huff. Optimus was relieved his nagging suspicion that Bumblebee would ignore the command hadn't been prophetic. The younger bot had matured, even if further growth was evidently required.

Optimus instructed his bots to gather in the communications center. They assembled without complaint, although Bumblebee's scowl remained fixed on his faceplate. Prowl maintained his inscrutability but seemed calm, a state gratifyingly shared by Bulkhead. Who concerned Optimus most was Ratchet, privately morning for Omega Supreme yet obstinately displaying no outward sign of it.

_Well, neither did Sentinel and I for Elita_, he considered. Only to each other did they reveal their grief and Sentinel continued to express his hatefully.

"I want us to remember yesterday well," he said. "To remember what we accomplished. And anything else, I want us to put that behind us. We still have a mission here on Earth-"

"It's all my fault!"

The cry, wholly unexpected, caused Optimus to turn. He wished he hadn't removed his optics from Bumblebee. Without his witnessing, the smaller bot had transitioned from wrathful gear lock to brokenly limp, hunched over with his servos covering his face.

"It's my fault!" he repeated. "I was so certain Blurr was a Decepticon just because he was faster than me! I abandoned you, Bulkhead. I let Megatron take you and I blew Blurr's cover and now he's floating out AllSpark knows where offline or with Starscreams and I wanted to blame you and I'm sorry! I'm a horrible, horrible friend and I'm sorry!"

Bulkhead took a step towards Bumblebee and lightly tapped his shoulder. "Hey, little buddy. It's okay…"

"No, it's not!"

"Yes, it is," he stated unequivocally, his voice uncharacteristically stern. "Because I say it is."

Reluctantly, Bumblebee nodded. Optimus chose not to interrupt the moment, judging it best to allow the emotions of two bots' reconciliation to play out. Then Bumblebee said, "Ratchet…"

The medi-bot flinched and turned his face aside. "Kid… don't start. Just don't."

That was Optimus' cue. "No one is allowed to assign blame to anyone- including himself. We're heroes. No matter how you feel, no matter what anyone else says, this is true. And our worlds, this one and Cybertron, have a very important task for us: restoring the AllSpark. But first, we need to assess-"

He was just beginning the tedious part of his speech when a shrill wail pierced his audio receivers.

"Sari!" Bumblebee exclaimed and swerved to rush out, but the girl was already running into the communications center.

_Sumdac!_ Optimus felt a burst of anger. _What have you done?_

Sari's eyes leaked heavily, wetly staining her cheeks and the collar of her dress. As she ran through the room every Autobot offered a hand as her perch, but she sprung onto the foot of their Prime.

"Op-ti-_mus_!" she cried, clutching his leg as well as her tiny arms could. "I'm… he's… I don't know, I just don't know…"

Somehow this little human had the power to shock Optimus right at the sparkplugs. Presenting his servo to her required him to bend over awkwardly, but he managed and she accepted it as a seat, clutching the tip of his finger for comfort as he raised her close to everyone's level.

"Sari, tell us what's wrong."

"Yeah!" Bumblebee said. His voice was oddly chipper, an obviously forced quality. "Did your dad tell you you're a robot? That's nothing to fishtail over, we're all robots here-"

"No!" she shouted. "I'm not a robot! Well- I kind of am, but… but that's not it! That's not it at all!" She sobbed again.

"You're among friends, Sari," said Prowl. "Whatever it is, you needn't fear telling us."

"It isn't that… it's… I can't say it… it's just horrible. I can't…"

"Oh, Sari." Bulkhead, this time.

"Hush," Ratchet insisted. "She'll tell us when she's ready- don't pressure her-"

Sari exclaimed, "I think Prometheus Black is my dad!"

Everyone in the room reacted with sincere confusion. Even Optimus, who knew what "father" meant in the blandest biological sense, needed a moment to comprehend the relevance of her statement.

"Okay," said Ratchet. "So?"

"Wait," said Bulkhead. "If Prometheus Black is your dad, then Isaac Sumdac isn't your dad?"

"I… I don't know," Sari whimpered.

"Maybe they're both your dads," Bumblebee said.

"That's not possible," said Prowl.

"Okay. Maybe Prometheus Black is your dad and Isaac Sumdac is your mom!"

"That's even less possible."

"Arrguh!" Sari exclaimed, disgust briefly overpowering her gloom. "Bumblebee, that's gross! And… no! No, that's not it!" Her voice started trembling again. "I was an experiment! Dad and Meltdown, they used to be friends and they _planned_ me as an experiment! So I'm human _and_ robot and I think…" Her breath hitched, but she caught it and continued, "I think Black used his DNA, but maybe he used Dad's too, but maybe… I don't know! _I don't know who I am!_"

"I don't understand," said Optimus. He wanted to help and comfort her, but this situation dealt with something so unfamiliar to him that he was navigating without a guidance system. "What is DNA?"

"I know what it is," Prowl replied. "It's the biological equivalent of our schematics and CNA- what determines form, function, modifications. A human's blueprint is a combination of her mother's and her father's. Or perhaps in Sari's case- as Bumblebee said and I may have been too hasty to dismiss- her first father's and her second father's."

"Oh," he replied, yet wasn't certain he understood. He didn't know a single bot disturbed by their own blueprints. Yet no bot had blueprints originating in another bot; the blueprint had existed before anything else. While the idea was comparable, the relationship wasn't. Sari seemed afraid of her blueprint because it was someone she didn't like and if DNA determined function, perhaps she was afraid of behaving like Meltdown? He would have to consult with Prowl further.

"Can I stay with you guys again?" she asked.

"Of course," Optimus said and slag Sumdac if he would object. The professor had been warned what would happen if he harmed Sari or otherwise proved himself unfit to parent. "For as long as we're on Earth, you have a place with us."

* * *

_My room_, Sari thought with the first warm bubbling of security she had felt in days. Her bed, her teddy bear, her frilly pink lamps, all set on tires that Bulkhead and Bumblebee had picked out and rubbed clean just for her. This place, Autobot headquarters, felt more like home than Sumdac Tower did to her now. She sniffled at that thought. Yesterday she had gotten everything she had wanted returned, but none of it felt familiar and safe to her anymore- especially not her dad. She had wanted her life go back to way it had been before and she had thought that once both Megatron and Powell were beaten and her father found that it would. Now could anything make that happen? No, because of her dad's secrets and lies!

_I just want to be normal! _Normal like she thought she had been- she knew she was weird, but she was weird in cool ways: living in a big tower full of fun inventions, having slumber parties with giant alien robots, and hanging out with a best friend that turned into a really fast car. Not weird as in a complete freak of nature- not even nature, because she was part machine and the not-machine part had still been engineered!

And even that wouldn't be so bad if she just knew that she could trust her dad.

Clutching her Key, she asked, _Is this why you chose me? Because I'm cybernetic, too?_

Of course, the AllSpark didn't answer. It wasn't listening. It probably couldn't listen, shattered to pieces. She remembered being in its presence, feeling as if it had spoken to her and she to it. It had asked for knowledge from her without explaining what it wanted or why, but it had felt warm and she missed it like a person.

"Hey, Sari," she heard Bumblebee from behind her, entering her room. "You want to play 'Goo Zombies' or 'Vampire Piggy Hunter'?"

She didn't feel like playing a video game and from the awkward ring in his voice she could tell he didn't either- he just asked to cheer her up. "Thanks, Bee, but I really just want to sleep now."

She changed into her pajamas and he tucked her into bed.

"Goodnight, Sari."

"Goodnight, Bumblebee."

* * *

_She stood in the cargo bay of Teletran-1, whom she knew now was Omega Supreme. The AllSpark's container was in front of her. It was empty, she knew it was empty, but it opened anyway and she stared into a black pit._

_ It wasn't a voice. It was like a thought, someone else's thought beamed directly into her head. In words, it was something like this:_

_ "I have not forgotten."_

_ And what it remembered, it shared._

_ The fusion core in her gun chamber charged, with satisfaction she would strike her unworthy, contemptible enemy… as the sword splintered her spark chamber, a flickering thought that might be her last: it was not fair… what was this fluid burning through her hydraulics, what was happening, she was changing, what was happening to her, no!... her body impacted the pavement, she felt her own circuit boards shatter, yet it seemed alright. She had won and everyone was safe, was that what it meant to be a hero?_

_"Stop it!" she screamed. "These aren't my memories, they're not mine, I shouldn't have them, I don't want them!"_

_ Sorry. It was sorry, it didn't mean to hurt her, but she was the only entity it could reach now._

_ "My purpose is life. I want to help, but now I cannot see. Help, Sari. You must see for me until I can see again. Help me see again…"_


	6. Chapter 6: Avatar

**Re-Sparked**  
by Tavalya Ra

Summary: In the aftermath of the space bridge's collapse, Optimus Prime navigates his crew through jarring revelations, changing relationships, and the unexpected assignment of another team member. Meanwhile, two old threats prepare to return with new plans: Megatron, who has teamed up with Starscream's intelligent and dangerous female clone, and Starscream himself, who is slowly merging with the AllSpark. This is just the prelude. AU: Season Three never happened and doesn't apply.

Rating: R for violence and sex

Warnings: Slash, sex, violence, and bad computer metaphors. Spoilers for the first two seasons of "Transformers Animated". Future installments in the series will have MPreg.

Disclaimer: "Transformers Animated" is owned by Hasbro, who probably doesn't care what I do as long as I keep buying their toys, and by Cartoon Network. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

* * *

**Chapter Six: Avatar**

After removing Megatron's stasis cuffs, the teal and purple Seeker stowed Starscream's head in one of the empty boxes strewn in _Teletran-1_'s disarrayed hold. Starscream howled his outrage, but once she and Megatron left the storage area his voice was sufficiently muffled and readily ignorable.

"I can lead you to the bridge if you wish, Lord Megatron," the Seeker said. Her vocalization was even in tone- no tilt towards mockery, as was always present in Starscream's. "Two clones are present there."

_She refers to them as if she is not one herself_, he noted. What did that suggest about her? So far in his experience no male Starscream aside from the original showed initiative or the ability to think for himself, but she did. "Take me to them. And tell me, how did this ship come to be here? Were any of the Autobots brought here as well?"

"Scans show no Autobot energy signatures aside from this one. Fortunately his equipment is sensitive enough that we could detect you even with your signal dampened." The Seeker paused and smiled. "You mentioned discussion of my merits. You should know that we are standing inside Omega Supreme."

The statement sent a brief spike through Megatron's processes; he was started, shocked, and- a second later, after reflection- also appalled. "What? This ship was assigned to a space bridge maintenance crew. But why should it surprise me to learn the Autobots treat their fallen in such repellent fashion? I trust this shell is spark-less?" The last query he intoned dully- why should her capture of an abandoned spaceship impress him?

A devious glint alit the Seeker's optical lenses. "You flatter me, my liege. Omega Supreme is online."

Megatron turned and stared, wondering if he simply should shoot her. More dangerous than being a Decepticon in proximity to Omega Supreme was being a Decepticon _inside_ Omega Supreme. The gigantic Autobot could easily destroy them within an environment completely under his control: his own body. Such reckless, arrogant insanity _reeked_ of Starscream.

"Are you serious? Do you realize-"

"The ship is under my control."

_Do not interrupt me!_ Megatron wanted to reprimand her, but he would have time enough to train her assuming they survived this. "What makes you believe so?"

"Omega Supreme was returned online on Earth, but not to full operative status and absorbing the transwarp energy must have weakened him further. I was able to hook up his central processor to a Headmaster unit and override his personality. I think he is aware, but his control of himself is suspended. Functionally, he is no more _Teletran-1_."

"What is the probability of his personality regaining control? What are your precautions against that?"

"We're monitoring his processes. Personality is rooted in the spark, so it cannot be deleted, but its coding is aberrant in nature- easy to detect. We know he is thinking. We can't tell what he is thinking, but we can tell that he is unable to apply his choices. The protocols that control his actions are inaccessible to him." She paused. "The design of the Headmaster unit is remarkable- for human technology. It is inferior and I would prefer to replicate its mechanism with Cybertronian parts, but my resources are limited."

He felt neither reassured nor dismayed. The teal Seeker- she was actually more purple than teal, but he identified her by her blue panels as that was how her color scheme differed the greatest from Starscream's- seemed in possession of healthy realism, but he wanted to assess for himself that she had achieved what she claimed rather than assume her brilliance. Omega Supreme could be feigning his dormancy waiting for a better moment to strike; perhaps he had done so in hope Megatron would come aboard. That was what Megatron would do in his place.

"Show me."

"Everything is on the bridge- just through this door," she replied and they entered.

The bridge was arranged with stations for the standard Autobot maintenance crew of five, the captain's console on the highest tier with his second-in-command's place beside him, both overlooking the subordinates' posts- not quite the same arrangement as on _The Nemesis_, where Megatron had sat enthroned with Starscream standing at attention beside him, some distance between them and the other officers. The chairs had all be ripped from their stations and tossed aside, likely the work of the Seekers for whom the seats were too small and presented an obstacle. Present were, as the teal Seeker had vouched, two more Starscreams: the orange one and the gray one with red wings.

"My Lord Megatron!" the orange one declared with glee. "I never doubted your inevitable return to lead us to triumph!"

"We'd be much better off without you," added the other- a barb that Megatron knew was not a true insult, but an idiotic quirk of this Starscream's programming. Just reverse the meaning of whatever he said to get the truth; someone who always lied was a bad liar.

"I do not require your flattery and I don't believe you. Be quiet and act competently and there may be a place for you among my ranks," he said and then turned to the female. "Show me how you are controlling Omega Supreme."

She gestured towards the lower tier of consoles. Crammed into the central workstation's area was a mangled purple-gray and fuchsia framework that Megatron immediately recognized as Starscream's body. Most of the paneling had been stripped from his arms, leaving bare the circuitry and wiring. From the ports into which his exposed cables were locked, he deduced what the teal Seeker had done: she used the body as a conduit, to link Omega Supreme to the Headmaster unit. The idea was a simple one, yet to achieve it would be remarkable. It required modifications to both hardware and programming for the connection and to ensure Omega Supreme could not hack or override it. Had she really accomplished this? Megatron used a side console to examine her coding.

She had. Stunningly, she had.

"I had almost forgotten that Starscream was once a scientist. Do you remember that?" he inquired, looking back at her.

"I possess his memories, but not as if they are my own. The data files are clearly of an external origin. I think-" Her voice turned disparaging. "-my constructor desired us to view the insights into his mind as a _gift_."

Was her disgust for Starscream genuine? Even if it was, it did not necessarily follow that she condemned Starscream's disloyalty. She might only detest the crudeness of his tactics and intend treachery of a similar spirit. Knowing her progenitor, he could not assume she was as she appeared beyond the evidence of her competence- something which made her more dangerous if she was lying.

"You found my most persistent traitor's shell and the Headmaster unit. Is there anything else you recovered?"

"We collected whatever we useful parts we could carry before boarding _Teletran-1_. Once we subdued the ship we retrieved more space bridge components," she answered. "Is there something you have in mind? Most of the materials can't be adapted to the spaceship, but there are other possible-"

"You didn't find an AllSpark fragment?" he questioned.

"Of course not!" chimed the gray Seeker. "We'd tell you."

Megatron did not require the look of panic flashing across the teal one's face to reach his conclusion; her reaction merely confirmed it. Immediately, he grabbed her by the wing and pressed his cannon to her chassis. "You have thirty nanokliks to explain yourself or give me another reason not to shoot you."

"I…" She seemed about to grovel, as Starscream had done before in her place, but then she steadied herself. "I will give you the AllSpark fragments, my lord."

"I am not questioning that. I want to know why you did not place it in my servo the moment I stepped aboard this ship."

She spoke, her voice revealing strain. If her specs were a match for Starscream's, he knew that where he squeezed her wing caused her a disproportionate amount of pain, but he wanted to witness how she endured it- if she accepted it and his displeasure and responded with the appropriate contrition rather than anger or protest. "I didn't know what you would do with me… if you would dismiss me as a Starscream or allow me to prove I am someone else. I felt I had to protect myself, you would do the same-"

"Do not presume what I would do," he said, yet her statement was insightful. She knew he had compelling reasons to mistrust her, ones that had formed without her influence. He would not deny her logic, but he would remain wary. Withdrawing his cannon and releasing her wing, he ordered, "Bring the AllSpark fragment to me."

She nodded, "I will-"

"Not you." He pointed at the lying robot who had haplessly betrayed her insurance plan. "You will fetch it."

"I will not!" the Starscream in question retorted haughtily and turned to carry out the command. Barely five cycles passed before he returned and handed to Megatron much more than the Decepticon leader expected: not one shard of the AllSpark, but five.

"Explain this," he said.

The female answered, "One we found in the space bridge's power core. The other four were on the ship. They must have been in the possession of the Autobots, probably what they used to restore Omega Supreme's spark."

"This is all that you found? There are, to your knowledge, no more in this sector?"

He looked to the liar as he spoke and the Seeker replied, "Oh, no. There are plenty more just floating about!"

Annoying. But at least Megatron could rely upon him for a direct- albeit inverted- answer. He tapped his fingers in sequence against his left forearm, opening a concealed panel, and deposited the fragments inside it. His optics swept over the bridge, scrutinizing the expression on each of the Starscreams' faces. The liar frowned in disgruntlement, which seemed his default mode. The sycophant had his hand clasped and beamed an eager, contemptible smile- so ready to praise and to serve, hoping that through the haze of his flattery no one would see the null-ray blast coming until too late. And then the one he couldn't summarize with a single trait, the one that seemed truly self-aware. Only she studied Megatron in return, her optics revealing a gaze of deference and caution.

_They all should look at me as she does. _Were they so arrogant? Or simply incapable of the same cognizance and emotion as her? _Let's test that._

"You," he addressed the teal one. "The lower half of Starscream's body, does it contain any circuitry involved in the connection between the ship and Headmaster unit?"

She considered his query a moment before replying, "No, it doesn't."

"Separate it from the apparatus you've devised. A demonstration is in order."

* * *

The cargo hold was quiet, Starscream having ceased his shrieking. Idly, Megatron wondered how long it had taken the head to realize he was abandoned with no one to tolerate his bellowed ranting. The female Seeker gestured towards his box and the liar and sycophant opened it, raising up the head. Starscream looked both furious and disorientated, an expression Megatron found gratifyingly vulnerable.

"What do you want, you worthless lump of rusty chrome!" he screeched, his voice at an oddly low pitch.

"To introduce to you reality," Megatron answered, "and the futility of your resistance."

On the floor before the head, he flung down the remains of Starscream's body. The limbs and upper half of the torso were absent, still on the bridge connecting the Headmaster unit and Omega Supreme. This, the rest, was the useless parts: legs twisted and smashed, the hatch's glass broken and splintered with a jagged edge, exposed and stripped wires sparking erratically.

The head screamed.

"My body! What have you done with my-"

Megatron stomped his foot on the remains of the torso, filling the room with the piercing tinkle of shattering glass and the whine of compressing metal.

"No!" cried the original Starscream, while the sycophant stifled a whimper and the liar's engine gave an unexpected sputter. The female simply winced.

Megatron felt laughter inside him and a smile that tickled to render on his face plate, but he allowed neither. Much as he enjoyed this token cruelty and Starscream's despair, his destruction had a purpose: not only to crush his nemesis' spark, but to instill a respectful fear into the clones. He did not trust their character- they were Starscreams- but he could trust their desire for self-preservation and this would be their fates, too, if they betrayed him.

He withdrew one of his swords and slashed it across the mangled heap, setting off a shower of sparks. Starscream's face reflected the purple light of its wake and he howled.

"Stop-"

"Can you feel it, Starscream?" Megatron asked. "Can you feel what I do to your body, even disconnected from it as you are? Your immortality is meaningless. All you can do now and all you ever will be able to do again is screech into the air."

He smashed his heel into Starscream's leg with enough force to pop it from its hip socket as it deformed.

"No-"

"You are nothing, Starscream," he declared. "Nothing at all."

He swung his blade again and this time severed the body in half. Flattened, rent, splintered- it was difficult to discern the form had ever been a jet, had ever held a meaningful shape or housed a spark and sentience. It was a wreck.

"No!" Starscream's shout was desperate, but rightfully ought to be hopeless. Anything else was denial. "I won't be ended by you! I won't-"

"You already have been."

"_I won't!_"

Something- some quality of the air or the light- shifted. Exactly what it was seemed imperceptible to Megatron, yet he was aware of a change. Of a stirring. The AllSpark fragment in Starscream's forehead began to glow.

_One last trick, Starscream? _he thought, altering his grasp on his sword's hilt to wield it in defense rather than blunt hacking.

"I will not be ended by you!"

Rays of light unfurled from the shard, turning the head into a beacon. The Seekers holding the head looked to Megatron in confusion and alarm and the teal one began, "Lord Megatron, he's-"

"He can do nothing," Megatron insisted, but wasn't certain of that.

"I will not be terminated by _you_!"

His clones shrieked and the liar sprung away- but the sycophant did not. The orange Seeker gasped, optics opened widely, and his hinges creaked as he tried to move, only to find himself paralyzed.

"Hot!" the sycophant cried. "So hot- it's burning! You're going to melt me-"

From the panic in his voice, Megatron wondered if the clone was for the first time in his online session not exaggerating.

"Traitor!" Starscream bellowed at him. "I gave you life. Now… _give it back!_"

The bit of AllSpark embedded in him- his incidental immortality- flashed, pulsating out a blinding halo. The sycophant screamed, a howl of agony, and Starscream roared at him, an inarticulate static burst of anger and pain. What happened next defied physical possibility. The sycophant's head deconstructed, not by layers or parts, into a shower of radiant chips that scattered onto the floor in a hail of pings. Then the arms of what should have been without animation raised high Starscream's head and fixed him upon the neck.

A welding ring of lightning flared without source, fusing body and head. At that unbelievable moment- as Megatron began contemplating not what was happening, but the _implications_ of it- Starscream's horrid, caustic laughter vibrated through the cargo bay. The crackling circle expanded and zinged down his body, burning its orange and red into the steel lavender and fuchsia of the same metal frame Megatron had just mangled into wreckage.

"Megatron!" Starscream declared with sardonic glee. He spread his arms open in a gesture of triumph. "If there's one department where you're my superior, it's arrogance. What did I tell you? That the AllSpark chose _me_!"

"He killed him…" the teal clone uttered with flat disbelief. "How…"

"I'm certain we have nothing to worry about," the liar reassured her.

Drawing his second sword, Megatron stood and waited. He did not know what to expect, how Starscream controlled the fragment in his head, what powers that granted the soaring fool. He only had a dread instinct that he'd underestimated Starscream's threat- and he would not show that. Tantamount to losing was revealing to Starscream the Seeker's own strength.

"You meant to make yourself the ultimate weapon! But you never became one with the AllSpark. You never felt it process _through_ you- and I can!" Starscream boasted. He thrust a servo forward, clawed hand opening wide. "Now, watch me become everything you always wanted!"

Once more, his fragment flared- and something quite different happened. The shard of AllSpark passed into him as if sinking into liquid metal. Its glow burned in Starscream's optics. The red lenses beamed so intensely they turned a pale pink, the light rushing from them almost too bright, difficult for Megatron's own vis-scanners to focus upon.

"I think we picked the right side, don't you?" muttered the liar.

Megatron remained firm and steady where he stood. He would not be daunted, although his anxiety had risen significantly- but not to the level of panic. He _never_ panicked. And any suggestion of a thing like fear which might be revolving currently in his processor was not for Starscream but his failure in understanding what was happening _to_ Starscream.

What followed challenged even his fortitude. In his left forearm, in the same compartment where the five AllSpark pieces were, he felt himself _burn_. He felt is as if he was being smelted from the inside. His mind jumped to the sycophant and how that unfortunate Starscream had dissolved into parts- was this how the clone had felt, the sensation he had experienced before his creator had wrenched his atoms into unsustainable blue motes? How did one resist that? Megatron needed an answer _now_!

"Attack!" he shouted, lunging his body and his swords forward towards Starscream.

His foe sneered and stepped slightly aside- a shift that wasn't a dodge, but a repositioning. Starscream grappled Megatron's arm, his fingers clawing frantically at the compartment, which still radiated heat as if it was itself a forge. The angle was too awkward for Megatron to slash or shoot at the Seeker; he spun himself around, looking to the two remaining clones.

"Shoot him!" he bellowed.

"Sure," agreed the liar. "There's no chance we might hit you."

"Fool! There's chance in everything- you compensate with skill!" the female snapped. Raising her blasters, she opened fire.

As a rain of purple bolts streaked towards him, Megatron swung his arm and swayed, maneuvering to thrust Starscream into the path of his clone's fury. The blasts of the null-ray exploded against the Seeker's back in brutal starbursts of energy- but if it gave Starscream any damage, any pain at all, his system seemed to register none of it. His optics were radiant with a fanatical spark, searing both with hate and satisfaction, and he grinned as if he were about to break into vicious laughter. Meanwhile, the heat in Megatron's interior rose and sent his sensors screeching, warning that the temperature was critical…

Screaming wasn't a protocol that existed within Megatron's directory of subroutines. Shock wasn't an indulgence he ever favored. He rode the pain, perfect and full in awareness as the front panels of his forearm burst apart. Starscream jetted away from him like a comet in a trail of gleaming white particles. His arm swooped up and backwards in a graceful arc. Following his fingertips, in defiance of gravity, danced the five fragments of AllSpark. When the shards met his servo they passed through his casing as if melting into him, each releasing a wave of shimmer that rippled over his body.

"Lord Megatron! Catch!" the female shrieked. Her voice came from a new position- the wall behind him- and he spun around to see her toss at him the same tether line she had used to draw him into the cargo bay barely a megacycle before. He snatched it just as she slammed her palm against a flat, red button.

With a warning buzz, the doors of the bay opened and space pulled, its vacuum tugging to suck everything into its infinity. Megatron held fast to the tether; the liar gave a squawk-like scream and grabbed a piece of exposed piping. As boxes and other detritus flew past him, Starscream growled and spun. A whirling cloud of sparkling dust whipped around him. Its tendrils drew close and then snapped out repeatedly, each time its strands growing longer, reaching out farther, closer and closer to Megatron-

Megatron heaved his fusion cannon upward and shot Starscream in the chest. The blast repelled him, flinging him from the cargo bay; wailing, he tumbled out into the star field until the glitter of his power was another speck against the black of the void. The doors closed and Omega Supreme's artificial gravity returned to effect.

For a full cycle, no one moved. The conflict had ended, but the tension remained, the room's air electric with it. Megatron allowed his processor to revolve and his thoughts to emerge slowly.

Was the question what had Starscream done- or what had he _become_?

_"…the ultimate weapon… everything you always wanted!"_

Megatron had put the AllSpark in its entirety into his spark chamber and that had, for the brief time that he had held it, allowed him to channel its power. Starscream had only fallen head-first on a fragment, yet bit by bit, it was _merging_ with him. The implications were staggering- and the knowledge itself possibly lethal if it bled to anyone else.

_No one must know._

He turned and looked at the teal Seeker, her face plate grave, leaving him to wonder how closely her ponderings spun parallel to his. Then he focused on the beige and red one, the liar, who simply looked confused and disturbed.

"What just transpired here," he stated, "does not leave this room."

"I'll never tell a single spark," the liar promised faithfully.

Nodding, Megatron raised his gun and blew off the clone's head.

A gasp began from the only remaining Seeker's vocal synthesizer and was cut off- the abortion of a scream. Panic was in her optics but her expression quickly settled into one of solemn, accepting resolve.

"He was useless, ignored my orders, was a traitor in the making," Megatron declared. "Scrap him for parts."

"Your arm?" she suggested quietly.

He almost winced in disgust at the idea, but her recommendation was sound. He needed half of his forearm's panels recast and grafted- in the meantime, he would have to accept temporary substitutes and the liar's shell was the logical source.

As she neared him, he grasped her servos and drew her close. Surprise registered on her face yet passed swiftly: he looked into her eyes, she into his. He saw in her cunning, but guile was lacking. Her willingness was startling- not for that she was a Starscream but that, once so many stellar cycles ago, Starscream had stared into him with the same pained eagerness. Then Starscream had changed.

"What happened here is between you and me. Do you understand?"

"I understand." No hurt, no protest, no bitterness or distain, only simple acceptance.

He was not going to explain why he demanded silence. She probably knew anyway and expounding upon it might give her ideas- perilous ones. The notion that Starscream had been chosen by the AllSpark was ridiculous, but certainly the Seeker had been touched by it. Among the Decepticons were fanatics who would turn on Megatron and rally to that if he displayed to them capabilities sufficiently miraculous. Fools always existed in a greater numbers than sensible bots- that dismal fact certainly benefited the Autobots. Starscream had to be destroyed before he contaminated the minds of other Decepticons. Fortunately, Megatron knew he wouldn't be alone in this quest thanks to the only absolute he believed about the Seeker before him: she despised Starscream as much as he did.

"Thus far you've served me well. You asked to be my second-in-command- I will grant that provisionally, as a trail of your skill and your loyalty," he said.

A slight curving to her lips- traces of a gesture she otherwise had well-suppressed- hinted at her pleasure. She asked, "And my name? I must have a name."

What a difficult request. Names were based on qualities. What did he know of her? She was intelligent and resourceful- Starscream had been, too, before his overriding hatred had blunted him. However, her primary characteristic was clear: she was driven to prove she was more than her progenitor recast. Yet she sought to do so by supplanting Starscream, slipping into the slot his betrayal left open and empty. Was this irony or contradiction? Megatron realized that his true interest in her wasn't as an ally. He believed she was useful and use her he did intend, but her greatest appeal was a straightforward curiosity he felt towards what she might do. He wanted to witness her toil to define herself.

"Yes, you must. And I have for you a name…"


	7. Chapter 7: Starting Line

**Re-Sparked**  
by Tavalya Ra

Summary: In the aftermath of the space bridge's collapse, Optimus Prime navigates his crew through jarring revelations, changing relationships, and the unexpected assignment of another team member. Meanwhile, two old threats prepare to return with new plans: Megatron, who has teamed up with Starscream's intelligent and dangerous female clone, and Starscream himself, who is slowly merging with the AllSpark. This is just the prelude. AU: Season Three never happened and doesn't apply.

Rating: R for violence and sex

Warnings: Slash, sex, violence, and bad computer metaphors. Spoilers for the first two seasons of "Transformers Animated". Future installments in the series will have MPreg.

Disclaimer: "Transformers Animated" is owned by Hasbro, who probably doesn't care what I do as long as I keep buying their toys, and by Cartoon Network. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

* * *

**Chapter Seven: Starting Line**

Prowl volunteered to cook breakfast for Sari. Of the Autobots, he was the most adept at it, with the best understanding of what humans found consumable and nutritionally satisfying. Optimus and Bumblebee watched.

"How did you sleep last night, Sari?" Optimus asked.

She shrugged. "Eh, okay, I guess. I had kind of a freaky dream."

"What's it like to dream?" Prowl mused.

"Hmm." She squeezed her chin. "Like being in a movie. You can't control what happens. Usually, you don't even control what you do. But you're part of it."

"Only you would ask that question," Bumblebee said. "Well, you and Bulkhead."

Ignoring the comment, Prowl swiveled around and set a plate before Sari. "Blueberry pancakes and…" He presented a plastic jar. "…maple syrup. Unlike some bots, I know the difference between this and motor oil."

"Hey! She noticed before she used it. There was no harm done!" Bumblebee declared.

"You could have killed her. Or one of us with the syrup."

Sari uncapped the jar and poured some of the thick liquid on her pancakes. She cut a wedge and eagerly shoved it into her mouth. After her initial bites, her chewing slowed and her face puckered. She spat out the brown mush onto her napkin.

"Ew! Prowl, what did you use to make this? Hamster food?"

"No. I discovered a way of cooking that doesn't require any harm to animals. It's called vegan…"

Groaning, Sari lowered her head until her bangs were in danger of falling into the pooling syrup on her plate. "Great. You don't even eat food and you're a mega-ultra-vegetarian." But she lifted her face and ate another piece anyway, chomping rapidly and swallowing quickly.

"Sari, I hope it isn't too soon to discuss this," Optimus began. Yesterday she had explained to them that she was something called a "cyborg" and how she might be related to Meltdown. These were unsettling revelations and he wanted to be mindful of that, but he felt urgency on account of their mission's vitality. They might have a limited window to act without Decepticon opposition. "We need your help locating pieces of the AllSpark. I know you can track them."

"Mmph." Her voice was muffled by the food still mashing in her mouth. "Not really. Not unless they're active and the Key's near 'em."

"That's still invaluable to us. If you and Bumblebee could make regular circuits around the city-"

"Suuuh-eat!" Bumblebee exclaimed, then looked at Sari. "That's how you say it, right?"

"It's 'sweet', but that works."

"Problem," Prowl said. "Thus far we've only observed fragments activate in the presence of machines. What if a piece is located somewhere there isn't a machine?"

Bumblebee puttered his engine. "Hey, Master of Observation, where _aren't _there machines?"

Scowling, he answered, "The woods. Surely you remember the woods, Bumblebee."

"Hey, that's no problem! We can send you out there to hunt for the next stellar cycle! You'll have a blast!"

"Ha ha. And if I suggest I require assistance and recommend you to Prime?"

"You won't. I'm too obnoxious."

Optimus smiled and said good-naturedly, "Alright you two, shut down the program. Thank you for mentioning that, Prowl. We'll discuss it with the others. We might all be doing nature hikes eventually. Now-"

"Prime!" Ratchet's voice crackled over the comm channel. "You might want to come out front. We've got a visitor."

_A visitor, not an intruder? _Optimus wondered. "Can you identify?"

"Yes. One Isaac Sumdac."

The gears controlling Optimus' jaw locked. Knowing Sumdac had lied to Sari about the nature of her own self- to consider nothing of the man's personal connection to yet another enemy of theirs- was the final scrap of evidence he needed to deem the professor untrustworthy. Fortunately, Sari had not heard Ratchet and Optimus could dismiss Sumdac without her exposure.

Outside he found Ratchet posed as a quiet sentinel, relaxed but wary. The medi-bot's vigilant gaze was focused on Sumdac, who stood beside a white compact car he had probably driven there. The professor was wringing his hands.

Sumdac turned. "Ah, Optimus Prime-"

"How did you find this place?" Optimus demanded.

"I- I thought that perhaps Sari had chosen your headquarters. She might have thought to use one of my abandoned buildings. It would be logical, she is quite clever…" He was nearly stammering and moisture glistened on his face- not from his eyes, but from all over. That fluid, Optimus knew, was called sweat and humans secreted it when they were too hot or were nervous- or afraid. He knew it ought to bother him that he evoked that reaction in any human, but he felt too angry. "Is she here? Is my daughter with you?"

"Sari isn't your concern anymore. She's ours."

"No!" Sumdac's protest was startlingly fierce. "No, you cannot just decide that! I am her father! You cannot undo that!"

"It's not what I've done, Professor, that-"

"Don't talk about what I've done! You don't know what I've done, what I've risked, what I'd lose if anyone knew about Sari! You don't know what my life was these past months! You don't know how I survived it, how I survived because of her!"

"Dad?"

Optimus turned to find Sari peering out of the warehouse.

"Dad?" she repeated, approaching them.

"Sari, it's alright," Optimus insisted, holding up his hand. "You can stay inside-"

She ignored him. She took a few more steps- then froze. She stood paralyzed in a stance of absolute tension- shoulders raised, back rigid, arms stick-straight. When Sumdac embraced her, she fell limp so quickly it was as if she had broken and she began to cry.

"I just want to know the truth!"

"Ooo, ooo," Sumdac crooned. "I know, precious, I know. That's why I came to find you."

* * *

Sari realized that yesterday she had run away from exactly what she wanted most. She'd been so scared- wrenchingly yanked and spun- by what her dad had told her that she'd fled on instinct. Now, sitting on the Autobots' concrete sofa with her dad's arms around her, surrounded by her friends, she felt safe. She didn't really know what or who she was, but she believed her dad would tell her. Even though this was something personal, she hadn't minded Optimus asking her to let all the Autobots hear it; they were family, she was going to tell them whatever her dad said anyway.

"I wish I could explain or excuse what Prometheus has become," her father said. "You will have to trust that he was a different man. A kinder man."

"You understand if I remain skeptical," said Optimus.

Sari didn't like the pause that followed.

Isaac continued, "Biologically speaking, you could say he is your other father, Sari. I wish that wasn't difficult to tell you. There was a time when it wouldn't have been. In our original plans, we would have raised you together… well. Using Prometheus' genes wasn't a choice. It was already in the materials required- he had a habit of using his own DNA as a control or base in experiments, you see- and I didn't have the expertise to recreate them using someone else. But even if I could have…" A cloud entered his eyes. "You may not understand this. No, I am certain you won't. He and I were so close and the idea of you was his as much as mine. I couldn't deny his part in you."

His assumption was right. His confession didn't make sense to Sari. She hadn't known Black at all until he had become Meltdown- the guy who'd tried to kill her dad, who _had_ nearly killed Bulkhead, and who wanted to mutate her. Her dad had said he had been kinder, but kicking puppies was kinder than that! And yet Isaac's voice was sad, as if he really missed him, and Sari had an eerie moment of intuition in which she realized her father probably liked that she was also Black's kid.

"Dad?" she asked uncertainly. "You and he, you weren't… um…"

"Yes?" he prodded.

"Um… together? Uh…" She said it, feeling so _weird_ doing so. "Are you gay?"

"What? No! No, Sari…" he shook his head. "No. Not that there's anything wrong with that. That just wasn't our situation."

"Okay," she replied just to say something. Knowing that didn't seem to resolve anything. What she was, _why_ she was didn't make sense and that she questioned why she existed scared her.

"Your other concerns I want to address, too. You are human. There isn't a question of that. But you do have some abilities you wouldn't without cybernetic parts. When you scream, for example. Your voice sends out a frequency that disrupts most machines and living creatures. You should also be able to remotely scramble electronic devices- I will have to teach you how to do that…" He stopped. "But there will be time enough for that. I want to know that you're alright."

Suddenly, she was paralyzed. How could she respond to that? One of the most horrible entities she knew was her second father, she was bizarre enough to _have_ a second father, she could do things that were just inhuman… and yet what seemed the worst of it all was that a huge part of her father's past had been a total unknown to her. The worst part was thinking the most important person in her world was someone she didn't really know.

Her dad gave her a loving squeeze. "There's something I want to show you."

From the pouch on his glove, he pulled out a photo and handed it to her. The image looked newly printed, but that didn't mean it was recent; it could be an old picture her dad had dug up from his hard drive this morning and that probably was the case as she recognized one of two teenagers standing in the foreground of it: her father's younger self. Behind him were Grandpa and Grandma Sumdac, her recognition of them also from other photos. She had never met them; they'd died before she had been born. Standing next to them was another family of a boy and his parents. The adolescent was tall, with a long oval face and fine blond hair. Sari guessed easily that this was Black and her other grandparents. The woman, Black's mother, had ruby eyes and vivid red hair.

"I look like her!"

Isaac nodded. "You asked if you were an experiment. I had no idea what you would look like, Sari, which of us you would resemble. When you were born, I was afraid Prometheus would realize who you were…"

_How does that prove I'm not an experiment?_ How was this meaningful? Sari didn't understand. But her dad thought it meant something. That was why he told her- he was trying to disprove her worst thoughts and show her she shouldn't be afraid, she realized. And even though she didn't find the evidence he presented convincing, just the fact that he was trying- and that he was so distressed over her- proved something. She was as important to him as he was to her, in the same way as he was to her. Maybe she didn't know what she was, but she'd been wrong to think she didn't know who. She was Isaac Sumdac's daughter. She loved him and he loved her and nothing- nothing, nothing- else really mattered when it came to her identity, because the truth was in that.

She dropped her head against his chest and hugged him. "Daddy…"

"You must have so many questions. I will answer them all, I promise."

And she would ask them all, when she could think of them. Time enough for that later. Optimus took the lull in the conversation as an opening to discuss her with Isaac- he explained that the Autobots needed her help and they decided it was alright for Sari to still have a room at their headquarters and for her to sleep over some nights. She was fine with that. Everything was finally okay.

* * *

A name. That vital component that she lacked had been her request. And Megatron had given her a name.

Her name made her so furious she thought she could expel acid.

"I know you believe yourself singular," he had said, "but you are more like Starscream than you realize. You are a shade of him, his brighter past…"

Tealscream. He had named her _Tealscream!_ Not only did it sound like "Starscream", not only was it nonsensical, it identified her by her most superficial trait, her color.

_My shade_, she realized. A shade of Starscream- Megatron had chosen her name to drive her to prove she was more than that. And she would; she had already drawn from him the promise that when she did he would grant her a more befitting name. Yet within her core processor, she would not refer to herself by that designation, which would simply drive her insane. During the interim, she would be "Teal": a descriptor of her appearance, not her character.

Megatron spoke to her little, but that was as she expected; from Starscream's memories, she knew that was his way- something that had driven Starscream's circuits to the fritz. Fortunately, she didn't share her template's need for constant chatter or affirmation and spent her time expanding her control over Omega Supreme's systems. The ship continued his resistance with unflagging ardor, but each byte of code she successfully imposed was a victory he could not repeal. Eventually, she wrested from him access to the navigational system and maps.

"We're only lightyears from Charr!" she exclaimed, surprised to discover help never had been distant.

"Excellent," said Megatron. "Set in a course immediately.

"We aren't going to pursue Starscream?"

"No. I know where he is going- whenever he figures out how to get there."

That was the most they had spoken of Starscream since his somersaulting out the hatch. Teal didn't question why Megatron wanted the event kept a secret- letting the general masses know one's foe held a far greater weapon could induce panic or even defection- but she wondered if there was something more specific the warlord feared. She also wondered what his personal feelings towards Starscream were, but knew far better than to inquire; her soundest course was to act ignorant of the more intimate details of the rivals' history together.

She tapped Megatron's request into the control console, loathing the bridge's proportions. Everything was sized for the average Autobot, which was significantly smaller than the average Decepticon. Fortunately she was a model that came with long, slender digits. Flight path set, Omega Supreme zoomed through the stars. She barely felt the motion thanks to his inertial dampeners.

"What is your progress accessing the ship's weapons and tactical systems?" asked Megatron. He sat on the floor behind the captain's chair, which was too small to accommodate him.

"Inadequate," she answered honestly. "And even if I gain control, we'll have only a mediocre war ship."

She heard quiet whirrs and soft clangs as he shifted position behind her. "This is Omega Supreme. This is the war bot that devastated us. How can that be?"

Teal turned around to face her leader as she explained, "As you said, _he_ defeated us. This isn't like _The Nemesis_. This is a living ship, designed to be controlled by its host spark. By disabling Omega Supreme's access to his own systems, I am obligated to direct them myself and my processor doesn't have the coordination he does. Neither does your processor. We couldn't manipulate everything at once like he can. The Headmaster's programming gives us control of his body- _not_ his protocols."

"What you're telling me is that this ship is deadly not because of his firepower, but because he is a skilled fighter."

"Well, the firepower does help," she drawled. "But yes, Omega Supreme is not the ultimate weapon. He is the ultimate _warrior_."

"Hmmph." Megatron brought his servos together and interlocked his fingers. Bowing his head, he spent a half-cycle contemplating before he made a reply. "I understand the distinction. Omega Supreme would still be a useful weapon- but is it truly necessary to compromise? You say you don't control his protocols, but that isn't quite the case. You trigger the protocol that tells him to activate his thrusters, to accelerate, to move his parts- why not a more complex routine of his programming? Why not the protocols active when he engages in battle?"

"Do you realize what you're suggesting?" she snapped. As he couched it, the matter sounded so simple it almost was quaint. "You want me to tell him 'fight' with the expectation that _he_ will determine how! You want him to make choices in direct defiance of his will!"

Slowly, Megatron raised his faceplate to reveal a subtle, devious grin. "Yes. How he fights is a program, is it not? Have him execute the program."

She wanted to gawk at him, because screaming that his idea was moronic simply wasn't an option. Yet something in the curve of his mouth, the slight gleam of his optics, gave her pause. She didn't want to be a Starscream- Starscream who had ever doubted his leader because of a stark dissonance between them: Megatron could see potential and read possibilities before the power was in his hand.

Was it possible? To control Omega Supreme- to control any bot- not merely as pistons and cogs, but to sever the link between spark and processor so that he _acted_, not simply moved, as desired? The moment she began considering it as if it could be real, she felt like a jolt had jumped from Megatron to her and she saw beyond herself, far beyond this Autobot bridge she shared with her commander in the lonely murk of space. What could be, if she dared to imagine it, was brilliant.

Even so, she was hesitant as she said, "It would take time…"

"You have it."

The response was unnervingly definite and she mistrusted that he understood. Looking him directly in the optics, she insisted, "A _lot_ of time. Stellar cycles of experimentation. Of mistrials and failures. Are you prepared for that?"

"I anticipate that. We have enough control of the ship to transport us safely to Charr and then to our true destination. We're returning to Earth, Tealscream, for what could be a very long duration. You'll need something to keep you occupied. And if you can accomplish this for me, you will have earned for yourself a real name."

Hope began as a slight vibration that intensified until she had to restrain her frame from trembling. Yes, this could be done. It never had been accomplished before, but she would do it- dream as Starscream couldn't. Soar above him and leave him in her exhaust trail: be free of him.


	8. Chapter 8: Shadowed Reunions

**Re-Sparked**  
by Tavalya Ra

Summary: In the aftermath of the space bridge's collapse, Optimus Prime navigates his crew through jarring revelations, changing relationships, and the unexpected assignment of another team member. Meanwhile, two old threats prepare to return with new plans: Megatron, who has teamed up with Starscream's intelligent and dangerous female clone, and Starscream himself, who is slowly merging with the AllSpark. This is just the prelude. AU: Season Three never happened and doesn't apply.

Rating: R for violence and sex

Warnings: Slash, sex, violence, and bad computer metaphors. Spoilers for the first two seasons of "Transformers Animated". Future installments in the series will have MPreg.

Disclaimer: "Transformers Animated" is owned by Hasbro, who probably doesn't care what I do as long as I keep buying their toys, and by Cartoon Network. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

* * *

**Chapter Eight: Shadowed Reunions**

Since New Kaon's self-destruction, Charr had become the political core of Decepticon territory. It was the capital planet- it was not home. Anyone foolish enough to call it "home" suffered Megatron's immediate wrath. They had only one home and that was Cybertron.

As _Teletran-1_ entered range of the orbital defense grid, Megatron set the ship to broadcast his personal hailing code. That would stop Strika from shooting them down, but she would mistrust the signal and send an armed escort.

"This will be your first time to Charr," he remarked to Tealscream as the black and gray planet entered the bridge's view screen.

"Yes. But I have Starscream's memories of here," she said.

"What did Starscream think of this planet?"

"He hated it. But, my lord, what he doesn't hate is a short list."

Upon a nanoklik's reflection, Megatron privately acknowledged that he hated Charr, too. He hated the buildings constructed in imitation of Cybertron's spires without achieving the same heights or grace. That the ambition to recapture their home world's spirit fell just short stung worse than for it to fail altogether.

A klaxon blared and a bland, synthetic vocalization announced, "Warning. Spacecraft approaching. Positive identification as Decepticon strike ship, Thanatos-class-"

"That would be Strika," Megatron remarked. "Bring up a visual-"

"Warning. Spacecraft approaching. Positive identification as-"

"-and shut our dear ship up."

Cursing, Tealscream darted between control panels, leaning over them at awkward, obtuse angles to reach the necessary buttons. The noise from Omega Supreme- from _Teletran-1_, Megatron corrected himself, the announcement being in the standard automated voice of the Autobot fleet- stopped. The view screen flickered from the marbleized surface of Charr to an exterior view of three starships approaching. Extending from the sharp, central bulk of each ship were four arrowhead points equipped with a pair of omega whip cannon apiece. As _Teletran-1_ had named them, they were strike ships: much smaller than the _Nemesis_ but far dwarfing the clunky orange and red vessel currently under Megatron's control.

_And yet if you were in possession of yourself, crushing them would pose to you little challenge_, he thought to Omega Supreme, even though he did not speak aloud for the Autobot to hear him. _How does that make you feel? Are you angry? I would be furious._

"I wonder," he began, "if you could devise a way to expose Omega Supreme's thought processes."

"Oh, sure," Tealscream grumbled. "Would you like that before or after I defy metaphysics by forcing him to operate against his spark?"

_How soon we forget our place. _Blandly, he responded, "Is there a problem, Starscream?"

He watched as Tealscream went inert at the name and then bowed her head obsequiously. "No. I spoke out of turn, Lord Megatron. Forgive me."

"I do, but I strongly suggest you curb your need of my forbearance."

She nodded, accepting his rebuke without comment.

The cruisers neared and _Teletran-1_ beeped to announce a received transmission. Strika's distinctive voice boomed over their communications band, "Autobot vessel, we have received your command code. Authentication is required. Stand down and prepare for boarding."

"Naturally," Megatron replied. "General Strika, I shall meet you at the starboard hatch."

"I acknowledge your voice, Lord Megatron. I still require visual authentication given your… space craft."

He almost chuckled. "Do I discern some skepticism towards my new flagship, Strika? No matter. My plans for it I will discuss with your privately."

"I await that eagerly, my lord. Strika out."

Tealscream initiated the necessary systems to automate _Teletran-1_ without input from the bridge and they proceeded to the passenger hatch. The Seeker seemed content with silence- or dutifully submissive enough to maintain it. Normally Megatron would be as well, yet he felt the urge to say something, even if it was irrelevant.

"I suppose Strika is absent from that short list you mentioned."

"Yes," she answered. "But I wish to formulate my _own_ opinion of Strika."

Her voice had a curt edge to it, but he decided not to reprimand her. He was too often comparing her against Starscream and he had promised to provide her the chance to prove herself something other than her maker.

By the hatchway, the monitors embedded in the wall flashed warnings that connection had been made with another ship, an enemy vessel. The messages- dire admonitions of the deadliness and hostility of Decepticons- amused Megatron, but he knew he would grow annoyed quickly of _Teletran-1_ assaulting his vis-scanners and audio sensors in this fashion every time a member of his own fleet approached. Once landed on Charr, he would have _Teletran-1_'s programming recoded so that its insentient computer functioned like the_ Nemesis_'s. Megatron tapped a button and, ignoring the ship's desperate protests, allowed the hatch to slide open.

He was met by a quadrilateral cannon barrel aimed at his face. He stared at it unflinching, waiting as the as the gun retreated, swinging upwards and sliding back to rest passively with its twin on Strika's shoulders.

"Forgive me, Lord Megatron, but as we expected you on Cybertron and this is an Autobot transport ship, I logically suspected this might be a rouse."

"Beautiful" wasn't a term to apply to Strika, although Megatron supposed that aesthetically she had her own unique appeal. Slightly larger than he was, her appearance was bold, imperious, and imposing- exactly as he desired from his loyal commanders. Red eyes narrow, her mouth set in a permanent scowl, she scrutinized both Megatron and Tealscream. Her expression suggested she found the Seeker particularly lacking.

Megatron nodded and answered, "Your caution was prudent. I want this ship escorted to the planet's surface, but discreetly. My presence should not be broadcasted."

"You won't be staying long."

"No. Circumstances have somewhat changed. There are urgent matters elsewhere I must address," he replied. "Now that you've confirmed I'm not an elaborate Autobot deception, let us prepare for descent. We will speak further at Darkmount."

* * *

Tealscream assured Megatron that she had Omega Supreme controlled and docile in all but spark, but that was a potent source for resistance. He took seriously not only the matter of securing _Teletran-1_ while docked, but also protecting Charr from the menace of a rampaging giant. He ordered her to pilot the ship through the tunnels of New Polyhex to an underground hangar, where Omega Supreme would be kept by reinforced titanium alloy and subterranean stone as well as a perimeter of plasma cannons and EMP generators. If the great warrior did overcome the Headmaster's domination, he would be subdued lethally. Again, Megatron found his processor drifting towards Omega Supreme's thoughts and was tempted to release control of his vocal synthesizer- but no. Megatron's goal was to crush the ship's spark, not satisfy his curiosity. More effective to give the bot cause to scream with no release.

Once the prisoner was docked, Megatron formally introduced Tealscream to Strika as his field lieutenant. The general widened one optic at the name and ran her vis-scanners over the Seeker, but kept silent as to her thoughts. Together they ascended into the district of New Polyhex.

Darkmount, in the heart of New Polyhex, was Megatron's imperial fortress and quite possibly the only building on Charr that he liked. It had not been inspired by glorified memories of the governmental monuments of Cybertron but was distinctively Decepticon in design, its spires long and spindly, bristled with pointed turrets and spikes. In keeping with his wishes for a hushed arrival, Strika had ordered Darkmount's staff reduced to a bare chassis crew of guards and essential officials. The trio walked by two rows of light war-bots at attention as they passed through the inner courtyard into the main building's maw-like entrance. Inside, the fortress was illuminated by glowing purple crystals, much of its interior deliberately left in shadow. Megatron's grand audience chamber- rarely used unless an event called for panoply- also employed this stylistic lighting. When on his throne, his outline was a haloed silhouette- sharp with only his red optics distinct. A dramatic indulgence, he freely admitted, but ceremony had its place in even the most stoic culture for purposes of morale. He walked past the great hall into a smaller, sound-proofed conference room.

Once the hatch was sealed Megatron began, "Strika, I am appointing you as proxy in my absence. Contact all troops engaged on the periphery and recall them. The invasion of Cybertron is suspended."

"What went wrong?"

"The space bridge self-destructed. I was fortunate enough to be transwarped only a few lightyears from Charr- why I am here and not on Cybertron or Earth. Our soldiers must be recalled, Strika. From the start they were intended only as a distraction. I will not have them needlessly dispatched. We much regroup and start again. I have a new plan in the works."

"Omega Supreme," Tealscream said. "You want-"

Megatron turned upon her with glaring optics. How dare she talk- not merely out of turn, but rashly blurting information she did not understand? How very Starscream.

"Must I bolt shut that mouth of yours?" he demanded. "Who gave you permission to speak of this?"

"I didn't realize… I assumed, in the company of Strika-"

Strika barked a harsh laugh. "Your second in the field, my lord? Where did you find this one? I thought Starscream's protoform mold was destroyed in the Battle of Vos."

"It was, but that doesn't make it your concern. Do not forget your place either, Strika," he warned, annoyed at both females. "However, I do not mind you knowing what Tealscream has referenced. That 'transport ship' you seem to think little of is Omega Supreme."

He felt deeply gratified to see shock spread across Strika's features. Rarely did she flinch at anything, including the twists he enjoyed introducing whenever he explained his strategy.

"You brought the source of our greatest defeat here?" she asked, voice quivering with an edge of angry disbelief. "Why?"

"We have him controlled- a bit of brilliance improvised by Tealscream. That is why she will head the project to bring all of his systems into absolute submission, so that Omega Supreme will fight for us," he said. "I am aware of the danger of such experimentation. Additionally, the dispersal of the AllSpark has again become an issue. We will be returning to Earth to address both these matters."

"So we use the Autobots' own ultimate weapon against them. But reprogramming him, that with take time-"

Said Tealscream, "I'm not reprogramming-"

Megatron interrupted both of them with, "Yes, time. But we have waited for millions of stellar cycles to reclaim our home. I would rather wait a few more to secure a total victory than do anything in a half measure. I do not want to continue the war- I want to _end_ it."

His subordinates nodded. Strika asked, "What do you require?"

"The standard cargo manifest in addition to a list of components Tealscream has compiled. You will acquire these expediently. I wish to leave Charr as soon as possible."

"As you wish. But before you leave, Lord Megatron, there is an issue here that merits your personal attention."

"Oh?" What fell beyond the scope of Strika's abilities to contain or delegate? "What is it?"

"Better he speak for himself." She tapped her arm, activating a comm link and instructed, "Blackout, send him in."

The door opened and another Decepticon entered. Megatron recognized him instantly- the bot's unique optic and horns he had never seen on another- and felt both relief and ire. This servant's presence on Charr represented another ingenious plan ended in a system crash.

"Shockwave," he acknowledged. "What are you doing here?"

The robot kneeled and bowed his head. "I am wanted by the Elite Guard as a spy and a traitor. I thought I would be of better use to you free and able, so I fled. But I have failed you, my lord. Whatever fate you deem befitting me, I accept."

Megatron kept his expression impassive, but his interior boiled. Thousands of stellar cycles of planning had gone into Shockwave's infiltration and rise through the ranks of the Autobot military. Now that extensive and painstaking plotting had resolved into nothing and his prized master weapon- complete, unrestricted access to any data available on Cybertron- was ruined.

"Shockwave arrived a few solar cycles ahead of you," Strika said. "I conducted a preliminary debriefing, to assess any immediate threat to Charr."

Correctly, she had presumed that anything more Megatron would wish to oversee. However, the timing of Shockwave's appearance led to an interesting suggestion. "You knew already I wasn't on Cybertron."

"I suspected. I also suspected the Autobots knew we didn't know where you were- which meant you could be anywhere and on any ship. Without caution, they could enter our territory pretending you had commandeered one of their vessels," she explained, although her logic was something Megatron had already guessed. "You should make an appearance to the public, my lord. This matter was never entirely private and it would ease the populace-"

"I'll consider it." He wasn't entirely decided on his next move and the concern most urgent to him was not that of Omega Supreme- it was Starscream and the traitor's sudden, arcane connection to the AllSpark. "Strika, Tealscream, leave us. I wish to speak to Shockwave alone."

The general and Seeker bowed in acknowledgement and left. Shockwave remained knelt in deference- penitent yet upright and unflinching, retaining his pride even as he desired clemency. His single optic respectfully focused in Megatron's direction without boring a stare into his leader.

"Arise, Shockwave. My wrath is not for you." The spy-bot stood. "How much do the Autobots know?"

"I can only conjecture. I retain some limited access to Cybertron's databases thanks to a few backdoors, but this does not provide me with a clear rendering of their awareness. Initially I held my post hoping Optimus Prime's team would be obliterated when the space bridge went critical. Unfortunately, they remained online. I fled the moment they established contact with Ultra Magnus, just ahead of the Elite Guard's order for my arrest."

In dealing with treason, Ultra Magnus and Megatron had a similar policy: contain and then question. By running, Shockwave had confirmed his guilt yet had chosen the best option.

"It sounds like the only evidence against you is the hearsay of that insufferable Prime- but I suppose that is enough," Megatron said.

"The arrogance of Autobot justice protects them well- for once," Shockwave remarked with distaste. "It's meaningless at this juncture, but I have at least the satisfaction that the high council will never know the full story of if and how they were deceived. Even now, I have supporters on Cybertron and in Intelligence protesting Longarm's innocence. The fools."

"Supporters?"

"Autobots are tiresomely political. My skill was only half responsible for my elevation to Prime. Connections, contacts… but I can no longer exploit them."

"Can't you?" Megatron questioned. Naturally, he understood politics. On Cybertron, one could hardly lead without playing such games. For himself, once he had worked his rise to the pinnacle of his faction, he'd ceased with intrigues and flattery. Those closest to him were sometimes blunt and brash, but they all were skillful, appointed based on merit- even Starscream he had chosen this way, although the Seeker had never seemed to realize it and had allowed his talents to decay.

Shockwave answered, "Perhaps for information I could, but the risks far outweigh the benefit. Longarm Prime is offline."

"Let me be the judge of that," Megatron retorted sharply. His processor was humming. Did Longarm really have such adamantly loyal followers that they clamored to deny his Decepticon allegiance despite the compelling- yet not absolute- evidence that smeared him? Shockwave wasn't boastful. Whenever he had claimed himself capable of something extraordinary, he had then done it. "Perhaps we have lost the advantage of Longarm- but perhaps something remains. I need you to tell me all that you know- not about battle plans and military codes, but of Cybertron Command's social strata. I want to know who knows whom, who owes whom a favor, who are friends, rivals- what they think of you."

_Let's see if we can't shake the floor plates beneath Ultra Magnus' stabilizing servos a little more_, he thought and listened as Shockwave began.


	9. Chapter 9: Layers of Deception

**Re-Sparked**  
by Tavalya Ra

Summary: In the aftermath of the space bridge's collapse, Optimus Prime navigates his crew through jarring revelations, changing relationships, and the unexpected assignment of another team member. Meanwhile, two old threats prepare to return with new plans: Megatron, who has teamed up with Starscream's intelligent and dangerous female clone, and Starscream himself, who is slowly merging with the AllSpark. This is just the prelude. AU: Season Three never happened and doesn't apply.

Rating: R for violence and sex

Warnings: Slash, sex, violence, and bad computer metaphors. Spoilers for the first two seasons of "Transformers Animated". Future installments in the series will have MPreg.

Disclaimer: "Transformers Animated" is owned by Hasbro, who probably doesn't care what I do as long as I keep buying their toys, and by Cartoon Network. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.**  
**

* * *

**Chapter Nine: Layers of Deception**

Charr's familiarity ached like a worn hinge to Teal. She loathed the feeling. She had never been here and wanted to experience it through newly-activated optics, yet every image recalled a memory clip and evoked a sensor pulse that belonged to Starscream. Everything, by default, she regarded as Starscream had.

She felt an aversion to Strika and grudgingly admitted that Starscream had some justification for his derision of her. The general had offered nothing in terms of hospitality and infallibly regarded Teal with a long, harsh gaze whenever the Seeker was in range of her optics. Although Strika appeared curious about her and obviously had questions, her look suggested that she had decided the answers were insignificant. Her judgment made Teal burn.

_When I am restored to my position, I'll far outrank you! We'll see how little you regard me then!_

Shame came over her swiftly. What a petty, _Starscream_ thought. Her desire to be Megatron's second was not for revenge or glory, but her belief in her capabilities and her yearning to utilize them to the fullest. She should be above caring for Strika's contempt.

Without remark- yet also without indication that she intended a slight- she turned away from the general and paced the great hall which contained Megatron's throne. The chamber was vast, ten times her height to the ceiling and twice that in length. Iron rods clutching rhombic triacontahedrons of glowing amethyst rose from the steel-plated floor at regular intervals under spiked archways. They ended mechanometers from the throne. The only light source there came from behind an opaque panel of purple Cybertronian glass, casting the chair and anything upon its adjacent dais with a dark glow. Megatron's seat and, a step below it, Starscream's pedestal. She remembered standing there as _him_, her constructor, but she wanted to know it as herself.

Megacycles- a suspiciously extended amount of time- passed before Megatron and Shockwave emerged from the side chamber. Shockwave's face- just an eye with no mutable casing to shape it, centered on a field of black- was inscrutable, but Megatron's jaw was relaxed with a pleased smile.

"Strika, your processor has admirable foresight. My plans have changed considerably now that I have spoken with Shockwave," he said. His vocalization was a slow, smooth rumble- a "purr", Teal thought, accessing Starscream's compilation of Earth terms. "Follow me."

He led them towards the throne and then, unexpectedly, behind it. The gap between the glass and the wall had just space enough for Strika, which made the area snug for Megatron yet adequate for Teal and Shockwave. There was a doorway of similar proportion, sealed by a seamless sheet of metal. Megatron quickly punched a twenty-digit sequence into a keypad in the wall and it recessed into the floor.

_I always wondered what you kept_- Teal began to think and stopped. No, she hadn't wondered. _Starscream_ had wondered. He had known about the door behind the throne- most everyone who had ever held a post in Darkmount did- but had never passed through it. Teal felt a thrill of satisfaction that she was about to surpass him in this way, even though the honor befell her by way of Shockwave. Who was Shockwave, she wondered. Starscream had no memory of this particular Decepticon.

She followed Megatron, her smaller size allowing her to slide nimbly behind him before Strika (too large) or Shockwave (reverently hesitant) could react. Slanted and unlit, the path led downward towards Darkmount's foundations. The lack of illumination was disconcerting, but not an issue; she could navigate with sonar or infrared or simply follow in the same direction as Megatron's energy signature. Not until they were well below ground level did her optics encounter light: more of the fortress' ubiquitous violet crystals, embedded into the ceiling crossbeams of a chamber narrower and longer than the throne room. Other than the roughly cut gems, the room lacked any decoration. The walls were dully gray, uninteresting except for incidental scuff marks and imperfections. The only thing strange and remarkable about the storage closet was what it housed: metal slabs varying in size from large to gigantic, intricately carved and hollowed. Protoform molds- not of many different bots, but one. Everything necessary to forge all the parts for a particular model, the very last model in the universe she would have expected to allow a duplicate of himself to exist.

Starscream would have sacrificed his thrusters to forge a minion from these molds. Teal's awe competed with her confusion until the latter won, compelling her to break the silence with, "I don't understand."

"Of course, you don't," Megatron replied flatly. "I never introduced Starscream to my designs to place a double-agent on Cybertron: Shockwave. For stellar cycles, he has been masquerading as an Autobot, ascending through the ranks of their military until he was given Primacy over their intelligence division. Unfortunately, he was recently exposed."

"Fortunately, the evidence against me is a testimony from a disfavored source," Shockwave said, prompting Teal to turn her optics in his direction. His expression remained indiscernible, but his vocalization held the faintest tone of excitement. "And we may be able to reinterpret that in a fashion which will allow me to be exonerated."

A pause followed, ended by Strika saying, "Lord Megatron, I have worked for you for too long to be tempted to guess what insanity you're about to propose. Tell me what it is and how we are to do it."

Amusement gleamed on Megatron's face plate. "That Shockwave is a double agent isn't a fact we can gloss over. That much we must admit. But we can obscure which side holds his true allegiance."

Shockwave continued, "We shall pretend that Longarm Prime is my true persona, Shockwave the pretense. My assistance in the matter of the space bridge was, therefore, a ruse to solidify Lord Megatron's trust in me."

"Strika, I will make that public appearance which you suggested. Shockwave will be at my side, hailed as my loyal advisor," said Megatron. "My departure from Charr must be a secret. Use my protoform mold to forge a sparkless facsimile, which you will automate. When the time is right, Longarm shall return to Cybertron a hero with the ultimate proof of his Autobot allegiance: my severed head."

* * *

Space was star-strewn, colored by clouds of cosmic debris that captured and reflected their light.

_"I was named for those glorious orbs. Don't you forget that!"_

_ "Do you think I ever could?"_

Teal shook her head- a truly useless gesture- as she aborted the contemplative thread. When would Starscream's memory clips cease to activate at every visual she scanned? Perhaps when she finally built an archive of her own experiences. She felt that she had lived for millions of stellar cycles and seen almost every parsec of the galaxy, but she had been online less than an orbital cycle and had visited only Earth and Charr.

_I have a vast session log that isn't even mine._

Anger weighted her like a ball bearing in her bay. She couldn't think of Starscream- of his imprinting upon her- without a vibrating fury. She wrenched away from the view screen and crossed Omega Supreme's bridge towards his newest instrument panel, a gray podium sized for Decepticon servos which she had constructed to replaced the jerry-rigged Headmaster unit. Across the podium's monitor ran lines of code representing the interaction between Omega Supreme's processor and her control program. Yesterday there had been a flare-up; the Autobot had found a vulnerability in her coding and almost exploited it to free himself, but she had shut him down and patched it. After some consideration, she had decided not to relate the incident to Megatron.

She'd seen little of her commander since Charr. She did not understand her leader's final instructions to Strika and to Shockwave. They were to tell no other bot that he and Teal were bound for Earth, they were not to contact him except in direst emergency or positive confirmation of Starscream's activities and location- although Megatron had mentioned nothing of the menace into which Starscream had evolved. Strika was to create and control an imposter, Shockwave was to destroy it, and everyone else was to believe Megatron was dead. Why would Megatron falsely plunge the Decepticons into panic and bereavement? For the slim odds that it might restore Shockwave's standing among the Autobots? Could that small gain truly justify depriving them of Megatron's leadership?

What was he thinking?

_It's not really my problem, is it?_ she thought, reviewing Omega Supreme's status log. _My concern is you, my pet war machine._

No. She wanted to know. And if she was to ever be Megatron's second, she needed to know. Starscream was a coward, not her. She would ask.

Megatron had taken the Prime's berth for himself as it was the largest on the ship, but it accommodated him poorly. Nonetheless most of his time was spent there in self-counsel, leaving Teal to herself. Binding the Supreme's functions no longer commanded her undivided attention and she had no interest in Megatron's suggested secondary project of decrypting his thoughts. She did not care what Omega Supreme thought, only that he obeyed. If he suffered, too, then good. He had devastated her faction; this fate for him was karmic.

Unfortunately, this left her without adequate distraction and her mind turned self-destructive when it had opportunity to idle. Her current thoughts depressed her. She did not want to return to Earth. She wanted some place new, somewhere with opportunity- what was there for her on that vegetated rock? Was it only a place for them to hide?

A suctioning sound alerted her to the bridge's door opening and she turned to give the requisite bow to Megatron. He nodded and inquired, "Status report?"

"All systems functioning within acceptable parameters."

"Good." He marched past her towards the view screen and stared into space. She approached, angling to give herself a partial view of his countenance. His optics were steady, unwavering. Was he studying the stars or was his processor elsewhere?

_Or not there at all? _Starscream would have thought. She hated knowing what Starscream would have thought.

"My lord?" she prompted.

He turned and gave her a bland look.

"My lord, why are we returning to Earth? You mentioned to Strika a suitable planet to experiment on Omega Supreme, but that isn't Earth. If he goes haywire, the Autobots will know and your communications blackout will become pointless. They'll know you are alive, that the bot on Charr is an imposter-"

"It is your task to ensure that does not happen," Megatron said.

She narrowed the openings of her optics. "No. Taking Omega Supreme to Earth is a pointless risk. There's something you aren't telling me."

His face plate did not immediately register any change in expression. Then he gave her a measured glance. "Accounting for what you are, I will tell you. But this information is between you and I."

Teal withheld her smile. This was what she wanted, to be privy to secrets that belonged to her and Megatron, no one else. "I understand."

"I'm certain you do," he responded cryptically. "But do not _misunderstand_ that I am genuinely interested in your work with Omega Supreme. Such achievement could be the turning point I seek to engineer, that will finally end this war. However…" He paused and grimaced, a tight anger gripping his cogs. "The Decepticons face a threat greater than the Autobots, one that could destroy us from within."

"Starscream."

"Too much power is the same as too much energon for him. And he hasn't the first component necessary to lead. Were he to usurp my place, his incompetence would undo us. Of this, I have no doubt or question."

_And you aren't thrilled that he wants to personally offline you either_, she thought.

He continued, "Before, Starscream was a hindrance. Now, whatever the AllSpark has done to him has made him lethal. Yet his nature makes him predictable. What he will do next is obvious. We are going to Earth because that is where Starscream is going, where he must go. The shards of the AllSpark are the source of his power. He will seek more of them. Furthermore, I know how Starscream thinks. He won't attempt to subvert and turn my bots against me- he wants to cast me down, destroy me, and watch them crawl to him. Going to Earth draws him away from our colonies- only that planet, the place of my humiliation, will suffer as I annihilate him."

He spoke as if he thought little of Starscream, his tone ringing with disparagement. Yet Teal did not believe that was the reality. Regardless of Megatron's words or tone, the extremes of their plans- a self-imposed exile on a world the Decepticon leader loathed- indicated that he took the threat of Starscream quite seriously. His ultimate design was clearer to her, but not all of her questions were answered.

"This does not explain everything," she said. "I understand why you believe Starscream will go to Earth and if he knows you are also there, he'll stay there until he takes you offline. That much I agree with- but what if he thinks you're already dead? You intend to convince everyone else of it, including our kind. If Shockwave acts _before_ Starscream arrives, he might swerve and claim the throne at Charr before the fragments. I know him, my lord. There's only one bot he thinks might be stronger than him and as clever as him and that's you. If he thinks you're gone, the order of his plans will change."

Megatron's smile was grim and bitter as he answered, "Strika's automaton will not fool Starscream. He'll know it's a trick and that I'm hiding- and why I believe that, you either know or you don't."

The blunt reference- and the sharp edge to his vocalization- silenced her. She did know. In her memory core was information of her commander and her creator's mutual past that Megatron obviously suspected she stored. This was her warning to not confirm if she did- a course she had previously decided for herself was best.

"I accept your judgment," she stated, phrasing her agreement with deliberate vagueness.

"Regardless of Starscream, the Autobots believing my death gives us a tactical advantage. Perhaps not every part of my gambit will be successful- but even in failure we shall gain something, even if it is only to cast ripples of confusion and chaos over Cybertron," he resumed, as if their uncomfortable digression from the subject had never occurred. "But the traitor must be destroyed. There can be no victory if he remains online."

Was that true? Starscream had hated Megatron for four million stellar cycles, but only in the past fifty had he been openly treacherous- and for only the single, past stellar cycle had Megatron known of it. This assessment seemed hasty, yet what did Teal care? She wanted Starscream dead. No matter what effort and pain she endured in defining herself, to her spark she knew her identity would never fully be hers if he remained online.


	10. Chapter 10: The Tedious Return of

**Re-Sparked**  
by Tavalya Ra

Summary: In the aftermath of the space bridge's collapse, Optimus Prime navigates his crew through jarring revelations, changing relationships, and the unexpected assignment of another team member. Meanwhile, two old threats prepare to return with new plans: Megatron, who has teamed up with Starscream's intelligent and dangerous female clone, and Starscream himself, who is slowly merging with the AllSpark. This is just the prelude. AU: Season Three never happened and doesn't apply.

Rating: R for violence and sex

Warnings: Slash, sex, violence, and bad computer metaphors. Spoilers for the first two seasons of "Transformers Animated". Future installments in the series will have MPreg.

Disclaimer: "Transformers Animated" is owned by Hasbro, who probably doesn't care what I do as long as I keep buying their toys, and by Cartoon Network. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.**  
**

* * *

**Chapter Ten: The Tedious Return of Megatron**

Blitzwing and Lugnut were normal- they could hide in open view of the humans by masquerading as mundane, sparkless shells of aircraft. Discovery was unlikely and more an irritation than danger thanks to their alloyed armor. For Blackarachnia, such easy refuge was impossible. In both robot and alternate mode, her monstrosity was obvious. Blitzwing had barked at her to hide herself elsewhere and had promised with vague afterthought to signal her once they had either instructions or their own plan. Her anger muted by her shame, she had meekly acquiesced and skittered away from her compulsory compatriots. As she left, her circuits surged with a fear-fueled certainty. They would not contact her. They were getting rid of her because she was both vile and useless; they would leave her stranded on this planet. She tried convincing herself that she did not care. She hated them and she had no desire to leave Earth anyway, for only here had she ever found real hope of a cure for her organic infection. But their rejection stung her; she ran to the rubble of the carbon mines and wept.

Megacycles later, fatigued from the loss of fluid, she berated herself for succumbing to an overly sensitive emotional subroutine. Why did she care so much, being scorned by those she despised anyway? She hated everyone; she just didn't want to be alone.

Dinobot Island remained the only asylum for her and Grimlock accepted her return eagerly. All he was capable of was simple emotions, simple concepts, and he was overjoyed his "spider lady" was again his. Except that Blackarachnia was not and she quickly found his attention obnoxious and suffocating. After a few solar cycles, she isolated herself in the warren of caves running along the canyon wall. The opening was too small for Grimlock or Snarl to invade but Swoop, as lithe as she was, found her. Separated from the other Dinobots, he wasn't as rough nor did he constantly peck at her for attention, but he did have an unsettling inclination to _stare_ at her. Yet between the cybernetic pterodactyl and no one- or between him and Grimlock- she chose Swoop.

Solar cycles passed in idle depression. Eventually, she acknowledged she could not remain on Dinobot Island forever. She needed a plan- the problem was she hadn't really had a plan even before Megatron's disappearance- Megatron's demise, more likely than not.

_I need to try something new. Every past attempt has almost gotten me killed- or worse. _She shuddered, remembering Meltdown. If the human hadn't previously mutated himself into a vomiting sludge of alloy-eating acid, she would have torn him apart for what he had attempted to do to her. She needed the perfect solution; she would have no second chance. Yet science required trial and error, the latitude to sustain repeated failure.

Science, she realized, required _test subjects_.

"Of course!" she exclaimed. She bolted upright, starting Swoop, who had had his wings draped protectively over her. The pterodactyl-bot hopped away and squawked, giving her a hurt look. Blackarachnia mollified him with a coy smile and beckoning digit, reclining on her belly and allowing Swoop to again enfold her.

If Meltdown could convert her into something completely organic, surely he could go halfway and replicate what she already was. With another technoorganic hybrid, she could research her cure without fear of the repercussions of experimentation. Or she could compel someone else to _find the cure for her!_

On Earth she had made nothing but enemies. She lacked resources and goodwill from anyone who could help her- but the Autobots did not. They had numerous friends, skilled and devoted, who would work doggedly to spare them from any affliction. If one of them contracted Blackarachnia's particular brand of disease, their pet Sumdac would recruit a horde of biotechnicians to revert the infected bot to a pure state- and once that cure was devised and proven safe and effective, all she would have to do was steal it.

She rhythmically tapped her fingers against the cavern floor and considered further. Not just any Autobot would do: it had to be Optimus. She knew his nature; just as he had abandoned her, he would forsake any of his crew if the challenge of saving them seemed insurmountable to him. The only robot she could trust him to fight for without reservation was himself; her bitter past had taught her that.

_You left me to become this, Optimus. My fate has been linked to you- it's time for you to suffer your part of that cycle and free me._

She needed to learn what had become of Meltdown and negotiate his assistance- problematic given their parting terms. He likely trusted her as much as she did him. But she had a course and would follow it. That was what security meant to her now; faith in any bot but herself was worthless.

On whim, she rewarded Swoop's warmth with a scratch under his chin and then went to sleep, something she required with alarming frequency since becoming part-organic. Her processor was one of them few parts of her that remained completely cybernetic; she did not dream. So she did not mistake the voice that roused her as a phantom of her mind. It was real, the sound intoned over her comm link. Real, yet its credibleness seemed unviable.

"Decepticons of Earth, this is your leader. The coordinates which I will transmit are a rendezvous point. You have three Earth solar cycles to meet me there. Secrecy is of essence. Take every pain to avoid detection; leave no trail. Those who do not comply will be dealt with severely. Megatron out."

She opened her four eyes and did not otherwise move. Megatron was _alive_. Her next breath came to her more easily. Megatron meant shelter that she wouldn't have to war to attain, that she wouldn't be abandoned, that she needn't watch her aft so fiercely. He upheld an order which she could skitter under freely- _that_ earned him her loyalty in a war towards which she felt apathetic.

Megatron's coordinates led to a location south of Detroit, but getting there unseen presented her with the same host of difficulties that had spurred Blitzwing and Lugnut to send her away. Humans wouldn't think much of a jet soaring overhead, but they would notice- and scream at- a giant spider.

"Swoop? Sweetspark," she cooed, scratching his chin and tickling his leg with the toe of her boot. "Your dear Blackarachnia needs a favor."

After nightfall, the pterodactyl flew her around Detroit's airspace, accomplishing in less than a megacycle what would have taken her four times as long and posed greater peril on the ground. He landed her in the woods and she rewarded him with a kiss- and regretted it immediately when he responded with a bold, prideful squawk. Fortunately only a few small organics of low-grade intelligence took notice; she heard them fleeing through the undergrowth.

"Go home. Go on," she urged gently, shooing him with her servo. "You'll see me again."

She vocalized the words as if they were a promise, but they could easily be a lie. Perhaps the Dinobots would prove useful again in the future, perhaps not, but at this klik it wasn't a worthy concern. Swoop ascended and she transformed to her spider-mode, darting away. Getting to the rendezvous point in time would be simple for a plane- hard for a land vehicle, harder still for something on legs rather than wheels, but she would not be left behind.

On the third day she arrived at an abandoned hangar, its long disuse broadcasted by the chopped up, overgrown runway and rust blistering the exterior. Inside- unsurprisingly- was a cadre of gleaming vehicles: a bomber, an army tank, an Osprey, and a teal-colored jet.

_Starscream?_ Blackarachnia thought, noting the last aircraft with bafflement. Not the right color, yet he could have gotten a paint job- but why would Megatron ever allow such a traitor back into his conclave?

"My lord?" she queried.

All of the vehicles transformed, most of them into exactly whom expected: Lugnut, Blitzwing, and Megatron. The jet was a surprise. It looked like Starscream, but it obviously wasn't: this bot's face and midsection had the stylization that marked most female models, Blackarachnia included.

"I knew she would come," Blitzwing's cool face declared.

She felt a frizzle of panic. Had there been some doubt about that? She transformed to robot-mode and kneeled to address Megatron.

"I am grateful you waited for me."

"That is unnecessary. I prescribed three solar cycles, you have arrived within that time," he answered, coldly brushing aside her thanks. Well, that just meant he treated her as he would anyone else. She would be grateful for that instead. "Arise, Blackarachnia. Allow me to introduce you to my new second, your commander, Tealscream. Tealscream, this is Blackarachnia."

"Yes, I remember," Tealscream remarked inexplicably.

_Who in the Pit are you?_ she almost blurted. That name was ridiculous. The idea of a color wailing was sillier than a giant ball of gas shrieking- although that had at times been a good description of Starscream. "You do? I don't believe we've ever met."

"She is a clone!" Lugnut bellowed, seething. He raised his fist. "Starscream made her, one of an army sent to strike against our glorious lord-"

"Yet, as is apparent, she shows wisdom her constructor has forgotten in pledging allegiance to me," Megatron replied with surprising mildness. Lugnut lowered his arm, but did not appear mollified. Well, that was Lugnut and that bot wouldn't be able to power down and relax until Megatron sat on a throne made of his enemies' sparkless shells, perhaps not even then. "My loyal Decepticons, we find ourselves in altered circumstances. We have within our grasp the means to crush the Autobots with the very instrument with which they struck out against us, with which they meant to destroy us two million stellar cycles ago. And we will use it, once it has been brought fully under our control. Until then, the Autobots cannot know of it or even that we are here. We will operate in stealth and shadow- as if, to this planet, we do not exist."

Simple propaganda or was some truth in the kernel? Blackarachnia found her curiosity lacking. She got by minding her own concerns and worrying only when directly ordered to do so. It was by no means an ambitious route, but her taste for climbing the ranks had been lost with the other casualties of Elita-1. As for the Autobots, the faction she'd once loved vitally, did she care? She couldn't care. The Autobots had abandoned her; they would dismember her and call it "science" if they ever caught her online. They deserved whatever Megatron had devised.

"Yes! How magnanimous you are, my lord!" Lugnut cried jubilantly. "And what weapon is this, that we shall use to blast your adversaries into mere oil smudges?"

Megatron, superior and satisfied, grinned. "Omega Supreme."

* * *

Teal had not wanted to return to Earth. The experience was proving exactly as she'd predicted, tedious and unpleasant. Grudgingly, she admitted she had something in common with Starscream; she preferred combat to scientific tinkering. The stellar cycles she would spend developing the means to perfectly manipulate Omega Supreme's processor seemed like a punishment and she had to remind herself constantly that working at Megatron's servo was a privilege, especially given her origin.

They had landed the great Autobot weapon on the moon; hiding him on Earth would be next to impossible. Omega Supreme fit nicely inside the gouged-out wreckage of the _Nemesis_, which masked him visually as well as obscured his energy signatures; a proximity alarm would warn them if anyone neared the crash site. Teal still worried- humans couldn't get into space easily and were exceptionally vulnerable to its environment, but that wasn't true of Autobots- yet Megatron had told her that her concern was excessive.

_Excessive? You should care about this more than me! _she thought testily. Her leader had said her project- a project she did not even _want_, which she'd begun in haste and only to save herself from going offline in a starry wasteland- was important to him, yet she knew his current gambit's true aim was the destruction of Starscream.

She tried not to think of Starscream. Who he was angered her, _what_ he was- a machine of unknown limit and power, fueled by the AllSpark- terrified her.

In the derelict hangar, Megatron explained to his subordinates how their operation on Earth would now proceed. A new headquarters had already been selected and modified- mostly by strategically smashing out certain ceilings and walls- to accommodate them and they were to _stay_ in those headquarters. No joyflying, no Autobot taunting, no random human kidnappings- that last warning Megatron directed specifically at Blitzwing, who liked tricking pilots into his cockpit and terrifying them. Their presence was to be completely undetectable.

He made no mention of his audacious plot to restore Shockwave's standing with the Autobots. He vocalized not a word about Starscream. Teal supposed the minions did not really need to know, but the silence troubled her. It seemed as if Megatron assumed his judgment was right and flawless and that disturbed her as she knew better than to believe something analogous of herself. But in his place would she consider a fanatic berserker, an inconstant schizophrenic, and a sullen defector good advisors? And he did explain to them Teal's work, saying he expected them to assist as she required- failing to remark that they would be among her first test subjects.

She hated her companions. Within the first klik of meeting her, Lugnut all but bellowed that he distrusted her and would strike at a mere twitch of betrayal. Blitzwing's opinion of her she had no idea beyond that she was in some fashion _interesting_ to him; he was too random to interpret, something which had aggravated Starscream and quickly was becoming irritating to her as well. Blackarachnia, last to join them, had seemed startled by Teal but had quickly ceased to care- but then, as Teal knew from to Starscream's memory clips, Blackarachnia was apathetic towards anything beyond her own survival and misery. The spider-bot might snap the occasional abrasive comment towards a cohort, but she ignored interpersonal engagements and wanted to be left alone in return. How tempting to Teal to dismiss them all, to treat them as if they were nothing to her. Yet that was the tactic Starscream had taken with them and they never had respected him.

They waited for the cover of night to migrate from the hangar to their new command center, a large research facility formerly devoted to "bio-technology"- Megatron's word- also isolated in the forest. The campus was five large, cylindrical buildings and a yard fenced in by a flimsy, metal-chain fence that might an obstacle to this planet's organics but could easily be stepped upon or torn apart by a Decepticon. Megatron ordered they leave it intact for appearance's sake.

"And we know no one, say for example the _owner_, is going to scan around this place _because_…?" Blackarachnia began disdainfully.

"This facility is owned by Sumdac Systems. It has not been touched since it was purchased," Megatron explained calmly, as if Blackarachnia hadn't offered him an affront. "It would be a wasteful application of processor to explain the nuances of human economic systems. Sumdac had a former friend that needed monetary resources. That friend exchanged these buildings for them, with the understanding he could arrange for their return in the future. Now that is unlikely to happen and my personal assessment of Isaac Sumdac is that his sentimentality will perpetuate their disuse."

The next solar cycles they devoted to settling in. They assigned and modified rooms for personal and operative use and then set up the equipment they had, building some of the rest they needed. More supplies were required, but getting them was an issue. Megatron wanted them off scanner and out of sight, which meant they couldn't simply take what they wanted even though no one would able to stop them.

"Tealscream…"

"I'm working on it," she growled.

Why was it always _she_ that had to be working on it? Lugnut was a single-core processor, but didn't Blitzwing have some technical expertise? Even a slight bit? What about Blackarachina? The spider was loathsome and unpleasant, but she'd overseen Blitzwing's reformat into a triple-changer, hadn't she?

"Show me," Megatron said. At first Teal assumed he was being sarcastic or reprimanding her, but she obeyed and was startled when he started coding alongside her.

Soon their collaboration produced what he desired- a new signal dampener, stronger than the device Sumdac had developed. It would compensate if the human had decided to reveal the programming of his original design to the Autobots. That would keep them safely unknown within their hideout. For leaving it, they created something new, a cloaking device based off pre-existing Cybertronian holographic technology. It projected around one's body a replica of the visual data from the opposite side, effectively rendering one invisible.

"I want one of these installed in everybody," said Megatron

"Even Blackarachnia?" Teal questioned. Modifying the spider-bot was at best difficult- and most often impossible- because of her body's bizarre fusion of biological tissue and cybernetic wiring.

Megatron audibly groaned before answering, "Rig up an external device for her. With her size and agility, she's our best unit for recon."

"I should think that _I_ would be the best unit for recon."

"Under ordinary circumstances, yes," he agreed. "You forget the human scale. It is irritatingly miniscule."

Their next task was installing a light energy barrier. The force field would not be strong enough to impede any Cybertronian for very long, but its purpose was to keep out human intruders. Anything stronger- anything above Earth's grade of technology- would arouse Autobot suspicion. Megatron pulled schematics, downloaded from Sumdac Tower, directly from his memory core and instructed Blitzwing and Lugnut to build it. Teal knew she wasn't expected to do more than see that it was done, a privilege of being their commander, but she wanted to establish a rapport with them. She went to the yard, where Lugnut was digging trenches to install the perimeter's remote stabilizers.

Picking up one of the devices- a cluster of capacitors and wireless receivers on the end of a short pole- she began, "Let me help-"

Before she could finish, Lugnut snatched the stabilizer from her and rumbled, "I can do this quite well myself!"

Although it was the reception she had anticipated, she still felt a flare of anger and dozen sharp retorts sprang from her processor. Yet she wanted to take a _different_ route than her basic programming would suggest. Just to start the dialogue, she stated the obvious.

"You don't trust me."

"You were molded and wired according to the schematics of a despicable traitor, who almost wrenched us away from the glorious path upon which Megatron is destined to lead us," he declared. "Why should I trust you?"

Lugnut spoke as this were a scared quest, not a military campaign. In Teal's opinion, any talk of fate or destiny was a load of slag. If she wanted proof of that, she only had to remember that by random error Starscream was now joined to the AllSpark. Yet noting why Lugnut was plainly crazy didn't tell her how to answer him. She decided to say the opposite of what the other bot expected.

"You're right. Why should you trust me?" she replied. "You have no reason to think I am honest- that is the legacy my foul predecessor left me."

Lugnut looked at her strangely, the shutter of his primary optic narrowing its opening.

"My one wish is to be better and wiser than Starscream was. He was a fool turning from Megatron and I am more grateful than I can say that Megatron is so graciously allowing me to prove myself," she uttered carefully. Speaking such slovenly praise- a mode in mimicry of Lugnut- felt grating and unnatural. "Until I do, it's your duty to be vigilant. Megatron expects no less from you."

"And never will I give anything less than the full force of my might and my processor and my spark to Megatron!" he bellowed. "That you will know the moment you stray into disobedience!"

"That will not happen. And I await the solar cycle when I have proven that to you," she answered, but then quickly turned and strode away. Acting so falsely- debasing herself because it placed her on Lugnut's level- was sickening and what had she accomplished? Had she convinced that metal hulk of anything? Lugnut would do whatever he would do and she could trust that he would watch, not actively scheme some sort of sabotage against her. He was too simple for anything more.

Stomping towards the main building, she found Blitzwing in her way. His hotheaded faceplate was showing and in her irritation she snapped at him, "Can I help you?"

"No!" he boomed, but then his face rotated to his cool expression. "I mean yes." Spinning to crazy, he declared, "Would you like to go dancing?"

He began shuffling his feet.

"Don't you have work to do?" she questioned tersely.

Shift to cool- although nervous described his expression better. "I have difficulty with this. What I mean is…" And back to anger again, which shouted, "Do you realize how frustrating you are?" To which calm protested, "That didn't come out right…" Swerve to crazy once more, "You're the perfect shade of blue, like a bright afternoon!"

"Right," she growled. "Well, when you figure yourself out, if it's anything actually significant you can let me know!"

With that, she jerked past him. Caring what the minions thought, maybe that was more important than Starscream had believed, but being friends with them? The futility of _that_ was now plainly clear.

Her mood was not elevated when, a few megacycles later, a conference between her and Megatron was interrupted by a bong on the door. Megatron glanced at his monitor.

"Blackarachnia?" he identified with a tone of surprise.

Teal poised herself at stern attention as Megatron unsealed the door. The spider-bot skittered into the room, her movements jittery from agitation. Through the slits in her helmet, four accusatory eyes fixed upon Megatron.

"Do you know who owned this place?" she demanded with some desperation. "Do you?"

Megatron folded his arms and stared at her. In his place, Teal probably would have slapped her.

"Meltdown! It belonged to Meltdown!"

_Who?_

"I am aware. That fact is why, as I stated before, I believe Isaac Sumdac will leave this site untouched," said Megatron.

Unalleviated- far from it- she arched her shoulders, rolling her arms back tensely, and barely restrained a hiss.

"That's all very well concerning _him_, but what about Black himself? Do you think he'll care that this place is no longer part of Biotech Unbound?" she retorted. "What do you intend to do when that corrosive sludge monster just waltzes up to the gate to melt us all!"

_You're just going to let her take that tone with you?_ Teal wondered, glancing anxiously at Megatron and feeling surprised his expression was unchanged.

"I do not believe that will happen, but should he make an appearance, the energy barrier which was installed today should be sufficient. It was to contain him at Sumdac Tower," he answered with unwavering calm.

"But-"

"Blackarachnia, I have tolerated your interrogation thus far but you have stepped _far_ out of place." Now into his voice entered the low rumble of fury Teal had expected. "Is it necessary to remind you of it?"

She backed away, even the points of her stingers bowing to give submission. "No, Lord Megatron."

"Then get out and do not interrupt me in this fashion again!"

Blackarachnia left quickly. As the door shut, Teal scowled and quipped scathingly, "Well, that was oddly kind of you."

"Oh? What do you mean?" Megatron asked, but he sounded amused.

"I would have blasted her a new exhaust port. You certainly did that enough times to Starscream."

"That is because Starscream was constantly and deliberately insolent. Blackarachnia, unpleasant though she is, rarely shows impudence towards me and in this instance was clearly driven by fear rather than rebelliousness," he said. "There is a thing called mercy. It, too, can be a powerful motivator when applied with care."

_Mercy._ The word stuck in her processor later as she walked to her personal chamber. She knew- from Starscream's hated experience- that Megatron had allies and minions, but not friends. Everyone he treated not as he felt for them, but as he knew would attain their respect and their loyalty. Lugnut wanted to feel that his subservience was valuable, Blitzwing responded to threats yet wanted his bizarre humor to be tolerated, Blackarachnia wanted to be safe and allowed to pursue her research. And Teal, slag it, she'd handed over to Megatron her command protocols, told him what she wanted, and he was dangling it before her like a block of ultra-pure energon. Mercy- he'd manipulated her first with that, fueling a belief she ought to be grateful he didn't blast her on sight for being an off-spark of Starscream.

Should she be angry? Starscream had been furious when he'd come to this realization- and sometime later, Megatron had stopped bothering to provide him with favorable stimuli and started openly treating him with enmity. Yet what would anger afford her? Mercy, indeed- she had no power to rebel. She and Megatron both knew that. And why should she rebel? Did it matter if Megatron played his usual game with her if it got her what she wanted? She desired to be his power, his blade, to use her cunning to bring his vision to fruition- she found that markedly satisfying and he was letting her do it.

_But I don't yet have his trust._ She knew there was information he withheld from her. He hadn't bothered to explain who or what Meltdown was even though she had witnessed Blackarachnia's outburst. She found herself swerving down another course- to the basement laboratory, where she'd knew she'd find the spider-bot.

The laboratory wasn't at all inviting. While its large wall monitor and computer consoles were intact, its furniture and equipment were smashed, splinters of plastic and shards of glass blanketing the floor. Those materials were Earth-grade, crudely manufactured and not strong enough to even scratch Decepticon plating, but they lent the room a violently foreboding atmosphere. Blackarachnia, in silently requisitioning the lab, hadn't bothered cleaning up the mess; she probably wanted to keep everyone out and had even added a few patches of webbing around the doorway to that effect, although Teal noted that she had gotten rid of whatever had been causing the smell of organic rot when they'd first moved into their headquarters.

"I hope you plan on tiding the place before you run any experiments," she said loudly, announcing her presence.

Blackarachnia, who was standing at one of the consoles, turned and demanded with foul temper, "What do you want?"

Teal stepped forward, sweeping away the glass particles in her path with her foot. "Don't you think you ought to speak to your commander more respectfully?"

The spider responded with a brief, dismissive hiss. "Oh, I see. You want to lecture me on my bad behavior."

"I wouldn't waste my time," Teal retorted. "But there is something I want and I think it's something you'd like to tell me. Who is Meltdown?"

Startled, Blackarachnia's four optics widened. "Megatron didn't tell you?" She muttered under her breath a curse Teal didn't recognize, some weird Autobot idiom probably. "Coward. He doesn't want anyone to panic."

_Coward?_ She cocked her head at that. Blackarachnia was one of the last bots she'd expect to have the sparkplugs to call _Megatron_ a coward.

Continued Blackarachnia, "Sometime, if you ever link into the human information net, look up the name 'Prometheus Black'. He's a bioengineer, hates machines. He developed an acid strong enough to eat through even Cybertronian plating- and then had a lab accident that turned him into a living fountain of the stuff. So, needless to say, he's highly lethal."

_"What do you intend to do when that corrosive sludge monster just waltzes up to the gate to melt us all!"_ So that's what Blackarachnia had meant and why she had been so alarmed. Teal felt disturbed herself. "The others- Blitzwing and Lugnut- do they know about this?"

"About Meltdown? Maybe they do and maybe they don't. They never met him. I have."

"You met him?" she questioned, repeating the suspicious fact.

Blackarachnia leaned away slightly, her hand at her throat. "It's a small planet-"

"Not that small. What…" Teal stopped, narrowing her optics. A bioengineer. A technoorganic freak who hated what she was. "You tried to make him help you."

"I didn't know he hated machines! Just that he hated Autobots!"

"What happened?" she demanded. "What did you do?"

"I…" Blackarachnia's servo slid down to her chest and she splayed her fingers over her spark chamber in what was supposed to be a gesture of disbelief and innocence. Teal didn't believe it for an instant. "I merely asked for help-"

"Oh, spare me. I have Starscream's memories. I know exactly what you're like. You never 'merely ask' for anything!"

Sighing, the spider turned her head and waved her hand in a flippant gesture. "Alright, I seduced the Dinobots and had them spring Black from jail and then lured the Autobots to their island to blackmail their Prime into obtaining a few items to purge my organic half… but how I was I supposed to know Black was going to turn on me and-"

_Why am I even listening to this? _How irrelevant was Blackarachnia's story. Minions. You couldn't shoot them and use them for spare parts. No, wait. You could, just not Blackarachnia. "So are you afraid that Meltdown is going to come and melt us all during stasis- or are you just worried he's after _you_?"

Blackarachnia's head snapped back towards Teal. "You don't even care, do you?"

She crossed her arms. "I serve Megatron. My interest is the rise of a Decepticon-controlled Cybertron, the domination and destruction of Autobot scum. Compared to that, what are your petty, backfiring little intrigues-"

A loud, deep hiss was the only warning she received, but it was enough for her to jump back and activate her boosters. She hovered as Blackarachnia sprung and landed where she had formerly stood, stingers jabbing downward violently.

_That's it! I've had enough!_ First Lugnut, then Blitzwing, and now her! Everyone Teal had encountered today had been insufferable! "How dare-"

With a burning glare, Blackarachnia screeched, "How dare _you!_ You came here with your questions- but you can't understand! You can't possibly know what it's like to be a _freak_, to be an abomination to the AllSpark itself! Do you have any idea what it's like to utterly loathe what you are?" She threw one of the few larger shards of glass at Teal. It hit the Seeker's wing, shattering. It felt more startling than painful, but Teal was shocked by the force of the motion, the rage and drive behind it. "Get out!"

Teal made certain to glower and scowl at the spider-bot before retreating, making it clear she was leaving because she considered the other Decepticon a waste of her time and energon. But as she spun around in the air and jetted away, her spark quivered.

_"Do you have any idea what it's like to utterly loathe what you are?"_

Yes. That was why she was here, why she was with Megatron. To become something else, something she didn't hate.

_I don't want to be like you_, she thought furiously of Blackarachnia. _I don't want to share anything in common with you!_

Blackarachnia was a walking tragedy- Teal wouldn't be. She would be something more.

_Someday, I won't be Tealscream!_


	11. Chapter 11: Encouragement from the Home

**Chapter Eleven: Encouragement from the Home Front**

The Decepticons had vanished.

Optimus' team inspected the rubble of the carbon mines. They found the Constructicons' shells, but nothing of Blitzwing, Lugnut, or any Starscream. Nothing of Blackarachnia. While they knew the fates of Megatron and the original Starscream, they couldn't assume the others had been similarly ejected from Earth. Yet as- by human timekeeping- days became weeks became months, remaining on high alert seemed paranoid. Optimus reminded his bots daily to be cautious, but they now moved throughout Detroit as freely and unburdened as they had upon first emerging from Lake Erie. A joust with the Angry Archer there, a run-in with Nanosec here- genuine threats, but hardly as dangerous as Cybertron's own brand of villainy. Plus, humans more readily forgave property damage incurred while fighting the likes of Professor Princess than that of Blitzwing and Lugnut kicking up the concrete- and not only because it was minor by comparison. Alien menaces were attracted by the AllSpark, but Earth criminals would have persisted in Detroit no matter what. People felt grateful to the Autobots when they acted as the selfless defenders of the city, not soldiers engaged in an otherworldly battle.

It was summer again, which Bumblebee said was a season made for joyriding. He and Sari certainly did plenty of it, zipping through the city hoping her Key would react. They had some success, locating two AllSpark fragments before their energy could animate anything and another just as it turned a vending machine feral. Bumblebee proved he'd learned something from the past by quickly calling for backup. Ratchet's diagnosis was that the machine had become more evolved but not sentient and Bulkhead smashed it with impunity.

_A start_, Optimus thought, looking at the three shards in their protective container. Seeing how small they were- remembering how big the AllSpark had been- he knew they would be on Earth for a very long time, but nobody seemed in a rush to return to Cybertron. What worried him most were the bits of AllSpark that had been sucked through the space bridge. He didn't know how anyone would recover those, but he had informed Ultra Magnus of them. That was the most he could do.

The communications console of the ops center beeped. Optimus checked- an Elite Guard priority transmission, which meant Ultra Magnus or Sentinel Prime speaking for Ultra Magnus. He accepted the message and was glad to see it was the Autobot Supreme Commander, not his assistant.

"Optimus Prime. I have reviewed your status reports, including your opinion regarding the lack of Decepticon activity," Ultra Magnus stated, speaking to the point with little formality. "I agree it's possible that the 'Cons are operating in stealth. Even without Megatron in command, it doesn't compute that they would suddenly ignore a known location of the AllSpark."

Optimus wanted to smile, startled by his happy relief that his leader was listening to him. He hadn't deliberately sought Ultra Magnus' approval, but he'd forgotten how gratifying it felt.

"By now the Decepticons must have established a new command base, but they may have chosen somewhere outside the Detroit area," Optimus said. "I plan to send out my bots in pairs to scout. We'll start with the city-"

"I'm glad you didn't overstep your boundaries again, Optimus Prime, by beginning this operation before my consultation. I've noticed you and your bots have a good rapport with the humans. That makes your team the best suited to recover the pieces of the AllSpark from their world. Monitoring for Decepticon activity will not be your priority. We will be sending an expert for that."

"Excuse me?" He couldn't help blurting the question, but he managed to vocalize it politely. A splash of corrosive straight to the chest plate- what had made him think Ultra Magnus trusted his skills again? "With all due respect, my bots know this planet better than anyone in Cybertron Command or the Elite Guard. They-"

"That is not entirely true. Furthermore, your bots are not trained in reconnaissance," Ultra Magnus said. "The decision has been made. Given what happened previously to our agent, I feel it best that he work with your crew rather than parallel to them. We have a space bridge locked onto Earth's coordinates. Be prepared to receive him in no less than two solar cycles. You will be his acting commander, but your orders are not to conflict with his primary mission."

No arguing, no hack out of this. Optimus knew better than to display his frustration and asked, "May I ask to whom this expert will report given Longarm Prime's… absence?"

Cybertron Command had been unable to confirm that Longarm was Shockwave; although Ultra Magnus had ordered him taken into custody, he had already disappeared. To Optimus, that sounded like a fairly solid admission of guilt, but he had never been told what the Elite Guard or anyone else was doing about it. That information was revealed on a need-to-know basis. Optimus, on Earth and incapable of offering any assistance, clearly did not need to know.

"His commanding officer will be Sentinel Prime."

"Ah." _So, today is "The universe hates me, doesn't it?" Day again._

"Your full cooperation is anticipated. Ultra Magnus out."

After the screen blanked, Optimus' smile turned crooked and he lightly banged his head against his fist. This agent- Magnus hadn't actually named the bot in question- was meant to act independently, so hopefully that meant he and Optimus' bots would stay out of each others' way and Sentinel couldn't use him to make Optimus' existence the Pit. But just how many times did a Prime have to go head-to-head with Megatron himself before his Supreme Commander would acknowledge that his abilities deserved a little respect?

_That doesn't matter. We are all cogs in the much greater Autobot machine. And I'm starting to hate this speech._

* * *

Almost half of the roaming space in Prowl's room was occupied by a canvas and paint buckets Bulkhead had set up last week. The tank was working on what he called a "Seurat"-style piece, employing a method called pointillism. Instead of brushstrokes, small daubs of color were painstakingly used to create an image- painting pixels instead of shapes. Prowl found this fascinating to watch.

Bulkhead paused and looked back at the motorcycle. "Are you sure you're comfortable?"

"Now why would you ask that?" he said, grinning slightly.

Instead of his usual meditative pose, he lay on his side, incapable of adjusting himself thanks to the stasis cuffs. He had convinced Bulkhead to lock them and was supposed to be practicing using Circuit-Su to remove them, but he had become absorbed in the hypnotic study of the other bot at his art.

_Calm. _An unnecessary directive, he already was at peace. _Focus._

He visualized his spark, something easy for one of the few privileged to know what a spark looked like. Centered within himself, its energy pulsated through him. Electricity, cogs, circuits- these gave him animation, but his spark gave him _life_. Energy within, but he could extend it to without, to the mechanism of the stasis cuffs. Numbers flashed in his mind, flickering rapidly as they changed. It wasn't important that he see and acknowledge them- that would be a distraction- but that he _feel_ their significance, the pulse of their signal, their effect. He realized he could wiggle his hands-

"Optimus Prime to all bots. Report to the communications center. We've just received word from Ultra Magnus."

Like a twig snapping, Prowl's concentration was broken. He felt a rough surge overtake his system as the cuffs reactivated, regaining their full intensity and again locking him in complete paralysis. With a slight growl, he lamented, "So close! One more nanoklik, that's all I needed."

"At least you know you're getting better," Bulkhead offered cheeringly. He reached to open the storage niche concealed in his chest. "Guess we better take off the cuffs."

"If we must…" He sighed. "Honestly, I'd like to keep them on. I know I can get them off myself. I just need a little more time-"

To his profound surprise, Bulkhead took hold of him under his arms and lifted him upright.

"Okay. Let's go."

"Are you serious?" he asked. Held aloft, his legs swung freely; it felt so strange to be unable to stabilize them.

"Why not?" Bulkhead replied. "Prime just wants to tell us something. You need your audio processors, not your mobilizing gears, for that."

Bumblebee and Ratchet were already in the communications center. They gave Bulkhead and Prowl a brief glance, not attentive enough to notice that Prowl was being held rather than standing under his own strength. Prime's face was in neutral serious mode, an unhopeful indicator; their commander usually tried to display little emotion when relaying orders he disliked.

_Well, there's nothing I can do about it_, Prowl reasoned and returned his attention to the energy pulsation of the stasis cuffs- nearly imperceptible, but he had spent stellar cycles refining his senses beyond standard parameters. _Calm. Focus._

Stasis cuffs worked by scrambling the signals sent from one's own circuitry. While the consciousness center and passive subroutines of a bot remained operational, no command from one's processor was received by servos, limbs, and other hardware. Yet by synchronizing his system to match the disrupting harmonics of the cuffs, Prowl gained control of their mechanism as an extension of himself and could open them. Such correspondence could not be programmed with anything near the swiftness required to be worthwhile or constructive; the process was tedious and the cuffs could detect the change and adapt. But to affect such an adjustment with one's own spark energy made the alteration instantaneous and stasis cuffs would not compensate, unaware of their undermining.

He had achieved this once in the pressure forge of Megatron's stronghold with no prior experience and Bumblebee snapping at him. He certainly could do it now, when he understood the method, while listening to Prime.

"I've made you all aware of my suspicion that there are still Decepticons active on Earth," Prime said.

"Suspicion? Sounds more like stating the obvious," Ratchet rumbled in agreement.

_My spark within me. I am my spark, my consciousness and it are linked…_

"Ultra Magnus seems to agree. That's why the Elite Guard is sending a new agent to monitor for Decepticon activity. This time, he won't be operating until the same level of secrecy- we already know he's coming and he will-"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, brake for a klik?" insisted Bumblebee. "They're _sending_ someone? Shouldn't this be our job?"

_My system has rhythm and it is mutable. It can harmonize with anything…_

"We're not intel-bots, Bumblebee. Someone who is much better suited-"

"Prime, you don't believe that for a nanoklik!"

"My assessment of our capabilities isn't the issue. This agent was selected by Ultra Magnus and will report to Sentinel Prime-"

"What!" said Bumblebee. "Is Ultra Magnus _trying_ to get us all scrapped? _Blitzwing_ would do a better job and be nicer about it!"

"This is an insult-" Ratchet began.

"Slagging right!"

And finished, "-and there's nothing we can do about it."

"Boss-bot," Bulkhead added his soft rumble to the conversation, "we know you feel the same. You don't need to pretend around us."

Prowl felt the pulse of his energy as it moved through wires, through circuits- through him, beyond him, through the cuffs. Its routines now were accessible to his processor; its code passed through his consciousness but he did not concentrate on its numbers, its sequence, its protocol. He felt for its flow.

Prime sighed. "I'm your leader. More than I am responsible for what you do, I'm responsible for _how_ you do it. No, I don't like this. I am proud of this team- of all of you, of your hard work and effort and the bots you've become because you've never given up on yourselves. Yes, I think we could do this ourselves, but that isn't the option we've been given. I think it's beneath us to approach this situation grumbling and backpedaling. Whoever this new bot is, he's a fellow Autobot and his goal is the same as ours: to protect Cybertron. We are going to accept him and work _with_ him. Is that clear?"

Too forceful an exertion of will would snap the connection Prowl had. This process was not about strength, but precision- not thought, not scanned, not detected or calculated. Felt.

"Oh, it's clear," Bumblebee answered impudently. "Clear that the Magnus is operating out his exhaust port! Who has personally dealt with Megatron _dozens _of times?"

"It hasn't been that many," said Bulkhead.

"And who-"

"Bumblebee-" Prime warned.

"The _Elitist_ Guard doesn't give a fleck of rust about us, they're-"

"_Bumblebee_. You can flap like a bad fan belt or you can be an outfitted bot, not a protoform, about this and-"

The stasis cuffs opened with a loud snap, reprised by a clamor as they fell from Prowl's wrists onto the concrete floor.

Prime's head swerved towards him. "Prowl!"

Free and mobile again, he gently swung from Bulkhead's hands to stand on his own stabilizing servos. "Yes?"

His tone was modulated and calm, but inwardly he felt smug. Even under these circumstances, surrounded by buzzing distractions, he had achieved the focus necessary. Processor over matter. Power from within.

"What were you- were you _cuffed_?" demanded Prime.

"Yes, actually. Not that any of you noticed. If you remember, at the space bridge I-"

"I remember. And I am grateful you were able to pull off that maneuver, but have you been listening to a single thing I just vocalized?"

Indifferently, he waved a servo and replied, "Yes. Ultra Magnus is sending a new intelligence bot because we are, after all, just a maintenance crew. Do you want me to get worked up about it?"

Prime crossed his arms. "We need to have a positive attitude. Sarcasm is not part of that. I'm disappointed, Prowl. I thought you had grown out of this. Everyone, dismissed."

Prowl left, refusing to display the sting of Prime's last words. He wasn't the same, stubbornly lone bot he had been when they'd first awakened on Earth. He just acknowledged his situation as it was, without deluding himself that his superiors were impartial and fair. How did Prime pretend otherwise? Prowl didn't understand how his leader could so calmly, ungrudgingly accept disgrace and slight and then turn to the troops and display it as something else.

_Prime's not a pure-grade academy bot anymore. And he doesn't realize that's a good thing._

"Prowl! Hey, Prowl!"

He turned at Bulkhead's call and waited for the other bot to approach.

"What is it?" he asked

Bulkhead looked concerned. "What you said back there to Prime… did you mean it? Is that really how you see us?"

"Bulkhead…" He shook his head. "Like Prime said, I was being sarcastic."

"But why would you talk like that? I don't like thinking of you as someone who's so… down."

Judgment from Bulkhead. The last thing Prowl had expected of the bot and it was spoken so inarticulately, so naïvely! The words, like Prime's, struck him in just the right way at the right time to break his inward composure and incite him- not that he'd ever make that apparent.

"I'm not down- I'm a realist. I know why you and Bumblebee were assigned to this crew. You got lucky in that it was what you wanted anyway- nobody else except Ratchet asked to be here. We're the rejects, Bulkhead. Together, we'll never be seen as anything else. As a team, we have no future. Anyone who wants something more is eventually going to have to leave."

"I don't believe that," Bulkhead insisted. "And if going for 'something more' means leaving behind my friends, then maybe 'something more' just isn't worth it. Here." He placed into Prowl's hands the pair of stasis cuffs the ninja-bot had disabled. "I knew you could get them off. And you knew you could, but I guess it isn't as meaningful as I thought."

He walked away, leaving Prowl alone in the corridor. Prowl watched Bulkhead's back flaps- wing flaps, again they looked to him like wings- as the bot departed and felt his anger frizzle into frustration. Was he wrong in what he'd said? It was the truth and he'd always assumed his time here limited, although he didn't think upon that fact much and had never measured the passing of his stellar cycles under Optimus Prime's command. Yes, this was a good team and how aggravating that counted for nothing, but was he going to fry his circuits over the unalterable?

_It is the truth. But I wasn't kind in saying it._

He also had lied about something: he was here by choice. And here he needed to stay. Today's altercations made it clear to him that the reason he had abandoned his cyber-ninja training still applied.

* * *

_ Sari was used to weird dreams. She was used to them not meaning anything. They were just a mishmash of gunk from her subconscious. But this might be different. This might be more than a dream and it definitely was a nightmare._

_ "Sari, can you hear? Can you see? Sari, I can't see, what can you see?"_

_ Nothing. She saw nothing, she was submerged in nothing. Nothing was dark and cold and suffocating. There was no air, she couldn't breathe, she couldn't breathe…_

_ "Let me go!"_

_ She had no arms, no legs, nothing she could use to struggle. She seemed not to have a body at all, was just a sharp splinter of self. But she was aware of her dreaming and with her consciousness _twisted_ until she wrenched herself awake._

She lay in her bed in her room, pink and familiar, in Sumdac Tower. She should have felt warm under her sheets, but the chill of her vision had carried over and she shivered. Her mattress didn't feel solid enough. Lying there, she didn't feel real enough. She got up just to feel the hardness of the floor under the carpet. For several seconds, she flexed her toes and rolled her feet over its firmness, then she walked to her window. At night the city looked like a toy with glittery lights dotting the dark square shapes. She used to like pretending it was a play set and would rearrange the buildings in her mind while she mimicked picking them up with her fingers. Right now, the idea didn't appeal to her so much. Lately she'd been the plaything of others so much bigger: Powell, her father, even Optimus and some of the Autobots.

The thought-voice that had spoken to her in this dream and others, was it playing with her, too? She didn't think so. It sounded so despairing, bleak- but also insistent. It scared her.

_"Sari…"_

A whimper eked from her. No. How could it reach her now? She was awake and it was just a part of her imagination, wasn't it?

_"Sari? Please-"_

"No! Get out of my head! You don't have the right to be here!"

She pictured an iron gate over her mind, slamming shut with a resounding clang- and when the echoes faded, there was silence. She was alone.

Dropping to her knees, she clutched her arms and started to cry. Dad- she wanted her dad. He was just a few rooms away. All she had to do was get up and walk there or go to her intercom and buzz him. And he would…

She stopped and caught her breath. She didn't know _what_ her dad would do. What if he thought the voice was because of her robotic parts malfunctioning? In her mind flashed a horrific vision of herself with her head split open, circuits exposed, wires hanging out, sharp metal things going _in_… It was enough that she almost screamed and she tightened her hold on herself, but she couldn't stop shaking. She couldn't tell her dad. And she didn't think she could tell the Autobots either because if they reached the same conclusion they'd tell her dad. Isaac might be able to open her up just like Ratchet could pop the hood on Bumblebee and the idea made her feel so sick she couldn't stand it.

_I'm on my own_, she realized.

Which meant she'd have to do the same thing she had when Powell had kicked her out of the tower and told her she didn't legally exist. She was going to have to pull herself together and pull herself out of this. She'd have to keep the voice out on her own. So far, it had just shown her scary things, not tried to stomp her and tear apart her home like the Constructicons. She could handle this. Why would there be any reason she couldn't?

She didn't want to be afraid.


	12. Chapter 12: The Magnus' Agent

**Chapter Twelve: The Magnus' Agent**

Ultra Magnus' agent would travel to Earth in a personal transport via space bridge. Transwarp traffic was common throughout the Autobot Commonwealth, but there was no bridge near the Sol system to act as a receiver. The best the technicians on Cybertron would be able to do was aim within a broad range and hope. Due to this imprecision and uncertainty, no exact date was set for the agent to appear; Optimus was to wait for notification of his arrival.

_With our luck, he'll land somewhere in Asia and have to ask for directions_, Optimus thought, then reprimanded himself. Where was that positive attitude he had insisted his crew needed to have towards their new teammate? True leadership was by example.

For the interim he placed his crew on light duty and assigned several megacycles of cultural reconnaissance, free time to do whatever they wanted as long as it involved learning more about humans and their world. He hoped that a few leisurely solar cycles would raise their sparks from the slump that had persisted since the space bridge's collapse. Ratchet gave Optimus an irascible glare, Bulkhead and Prowl pursued a roster of the city's museums, and Bumblebee declared he would "go clubbing". Optimus almost objected, but Sari assured him, "Don't worry, it's not what you think."

The call came three days later- a short transmission of code confirming presence and providing coordinates. The agent had landed in Detroit, selecting another vacant Sumdac warehouse as his site for first contact. Clearly this bot had done his research, an optimistic sign. Optimus gathered his team and gave the command, "Transform and roll out!"

During the middle of the day, when most humans were engaged in their occupations, throughway traffic wasn't quite as congested, especially in the older parts of Detroit. The drive was smooth except for an unfortunate SUV who cut off Ratchet, earning itself a stream of vocalized abuse from the ambulance until it pulled over and sped down a ramp to loop in the opposite direction.

"You never see such behavior on Cybertron!" Ratchet growled.

"When was the last time _you_ were on Cybertron?" asked Bumblebee. "Before they constructed the Grand Rotary?"

Said Prowl, "I recommend consideration towards someone who works on your engine, Bumblebee."

Their off-ramp was next, feeding them into a grid of vacant, placid streets. The warehouse in question was a squat, brown box in slightly better repair than their headquarters. Inside, not nearly the size of Omega Supreme but easily twenty times as large as any of them, was a triangular space craft: sleek, silver, with glowing blue markings and the winged Autobrand of the Elite Guard. The ship gave off a clear spark pulse, indicating sentience- very rare for Autobots, but not unheard of in the military branch.

"That's a nice little model," Ratchet appraised.

"Your type?" suggested Bumblebee.

"Kid, if you want to keep a working carburetor, you'll never make a joke like that again."

Optimus returned to robot-mode, followed by his crew. Approaching the ship, he called, "Greetings. I am Optimus Prime."

"Greetings!" a surprisingly deep and boisterous voice replied. "A pleasure to meet you, Optimus Prime! My name is Whiplash."

"Thank you. I'm afraid Ultra Magnus told me you'd arrive by ship, not that you are a ship, so we prepared accommodations for a smaller bot. However, it shouldn't take us more than a few megacycles to-"

Whiplash interrupted with a laugh. "Oh, no, you've got it right. I'm just the transport."

A wedge of paneling in Whiplash's side receded into himself, revealing a hatch that opened downwards, providing its own ramp. From this opening, a far smaller, lithely constructed bot emerged. Optimus felt a jolt of surprise and heard a few gasps from his crew.

"Blurr!" Bumblebee exclaimed and lunged as if he intended to dart forward, then stopped himself.

The Elite Guard agent faced Bumblebee and cocked his head, regarding the other car-bot sardonically.

"Impetuous," he remarked, then turned toward Optimus. "I also extend greetings to you and your crew, Optimus Prime. I'm very glad to see you survived our encounter with Megatron intact as well and I am highly curious as to what transpired after my forced departure from the battle, but of course that will have to wait until after I've dealt with establishing some preliminary measures as required by my assignment. On that matter, I realize my position as being part of your team yet not technically under your authority or bound by any of your orders- and furthermore being subordinate to another Prime of whom I am aware you have some history- could potentially make this a very awkward situation, however I assure you-"

"Whoa. Steady there, Blurr," Optimus urged. The other bot's entire speech- which was friendly, but on the verge of becoming far too frank with his allusion to Sentinel- had been blurted with Blurr's typical stunning articulation in less than half an Earth minute. "I'm… we're all very glad to know you're alright as well. Welcome back to Earth."

"Thank you. This is a curious planet and I look forward to studying it in a more participatory fashion. Of course, my function here isn't to gather intel on human culture but to assess if any remaining Decepticon threat-"

"How did you get back to Earth?" Bumblebee blurted. "I mean… what happened to you after you passed through the space bridge?"

Blurr swerved back towards him. "If you're so impatient to know, I suppose I have no cause to delay an explanation that I already intended to share. I was fortunate enough that the portal generated from the space bridge teleported me to the vicinity of Gorlam Prime- which, while distant from Cybertron, is close to several Autobot colonies and another functioning space bridge. I was not so fortunate to be cemented to two Starscreams who _would not shut up_, I was tempted to place myself in stasis, they just would not _shut up_." One servo rose to the side of his head and quivered half-clenched in pained aggravation. "After four solar cycles we were picked up by a passing freighter who delivered us to an Elite Guard outpost, where they were able to confirm my identity and I was separated from the Starscreams. I do not know what happened to them, their fates are irrelevant to me but I believe Ultra Magnus intends to be lenient towards the dark purple one and quite the opposite in dealing with the blue, egomaniacal one. I'm not at liberty to discuss much of what transpired on Cybertron, but suffice it to say that Ultra Magnus was concerned about the resurgence of Decepticon activity on Earth even before you made mention of the possibility, Optimus Prime, and determined that my previous experience and known loyalty qualified me as the best agent for the task."

It wasn't that Blurr spoke so fast that Optimus couldn't understand him. It was that Blurr crammed so much information into such little time that Optimus' processor lagged computing it. The pause before his reply, however, did not seem to trouble Blurr. Optimus supposed the intel-bot was accustomed to others requiring a moment to catch up to him.

"We're happy to have you. And in regards to your earlier… speech, I recognize you are an independent agent on Earth, but you are part of our team and that means you can count on our support," he said.

Instead of launching into a new stream of speech, Blurr nodded.

"Whiplash," Optimus addressed the ship, "if there's anything that you require-"

"Oh, don't you worry about me! I'll be taking off again soon."

"He has his own mission," Blurr added and Optimus heard what he didn't say: don't ask.

"In that case, we'll return to base. Transform and roll out!"

* * *

Bumblebee knew that Prime hadn't wanted Sari present for their rendezvous with Sentinel's agent because he had been worried how she'd be received. Any bot unfamiliar with Earth might need to be eased into accepting a human as part of their team- especially one prepped by jerk-bot extraordinaire Sentinel Prime, who treated organic life the same as oil sludge. They also weren't sure to what extent they wanted to reveal her connection to the AllSpark, which they didn't really know or understand themselves. But since the bot in question was Blurr, who'd already met Sari and probably knew about her Key anyway, Bumblebee figured it was okay and brought her over to headquarters.

"So, he got all the way to Cybertron and then they sent him all the way back to Earth?" Sari whispered. She was perched on Bumblebee's wheel hub, the two of them standing just outside Blurr's door. They were being as quiet as possible as they watched the intel-bot whizz around setting up his equipment. All the computing units looked standard grade, but Bumblebee was certain they were tricked out with all sorts of Intelligence coding and gizmos. "That sucks. When does he get a break?"

"He's Elite Guard, an all-star. He probably doesn't want a break," Bumblebee replied. He felt very impressed but also intimidated by the other speedster and he was afraid that Blurr might hate him after how he'd bungled the bot's last mission. "Still, this _is_ a bum assignment. No offense to your planet, Sari, but-"

"For your information, not that I feel you require it, I volunteered for this 'bum' assignment- which if you think is so insignificant goes a long way to explain your own lackadaisical behavior. Furthermore, did you really think you could spy on an intelligence officer without being detected?"

Bumblebee almost yelped at Blurr's irritated faceplate zipping in front of him and he stammered, "We- we weren't spying. We were just going to say hello. Hello!"

"Hello!" Sari parroted.

"You were standing there for a quarter of a megacycle and, judging your presence irrelevant, I found it inconvenient to acknowledge you- until you insulted my work."

"No, no, that's not what I meant!" he insisted, raising his servos. "It's just that Ultra Magnus doesn't like us much, so I assumed-"

"One would assume that after your multiple failures at deduction, including but not limited to identifying _me_ as a Decepticon agent based on fragmentary evidence of questionable logic, you would learn not to assume, but evidently-"

"Okay, okay, I get it! You're a great detective and I'm not!" Bumblebee interrupted. Would he ever be able to have a conversation with this bot without getting castigated? "Look, this is Sari. I know you already met her, but since I don't know if you were observing her, too, last time, I didn't want to _assume_ that-"

"Sari. Sari Sophia Sumdac." Spoken at super-speed pace, Sari's name sounded like a weird, oscillating hiss. Blurr snapped his face towards her. "I've been awaiting our encounter, having many questions I feel best answered directly by you. What is your role on Optimus Prime's crew? How did you meet the Autobots and establish such a strong, integral bond with them? What is the origin and function of your Key, can you detail its effects- good or ill- that you've observed in the past, including-"

"Woah!" Sari exclaimed. "You know my middle name?"

"You have a middle name?" Bumblebee chimed. "Why didn't you tell me you have a middle name?"

"You never asked."

Blurr continued, "I have compiled an extensive personality profile of you, however I admit to some perplexing gaps-"

Racing to interrupt, Bumblebee blurted, "Well, I bet I know something you don't. Sari isn't just human. She's a cyborg-"

"Bumblebee!"

"-but it's a secret! We can't tell anybody because other humans would bust a sparkplug and treat her like an experiment, so-"

"Bumblebee, stop it!" Sari shouted and kicked the side of his head with her foot. "Ow! Why did I think that would work?"

Tilting his head, Blurr regarded them both with a dubious look. "Am I to understand that you, Mechanic Bumblebee, had evaluated this information and judged it to be of significance to the cause of reuniting the AllSpark or exposing any remaining Decepticon threat-"

"I'm not a mechanic!" The statement burst from his vocalizer furiously, but he felt embarrassed immediately afterward- ashamed and very small. That he had any combat experience was a fluke; officially, he was just a maintenance bot and Blurr was Elite Guard. In Blurr's optics, he was overstepping his place. _It's not fair! If that building hadn't fallen on Sentinel and crushed his massive, chin-matched ego, we probably would have trained together in the Elite Guard. _"Sorry. I didn't come here to share information or insult you or waste your time. I came to say that I don't like how things between us started, so… can we start over?"

In response, Blurr asked, "Do you promise to stay out of my way?"

That confirmed it. The other bot did hate him or at best viewed him as grit in the gears- and he was a jerk just like every other Elite Guard member Bumblebee had ever met.

"Fine! I thought we could be friends, but I guess that subroutine's not in your operating system! Don't worry. When I see you, I'll be sure to race the other way!"

He swiveled around and stomped from the room. Meanwhile, Sari grabbed the side of his head and protested, "Hey! Don't turn so fast while I'm standing on you!"

_Aft plate! _Angered, Bumblebee's engine thrummed furiously in his chest. _Egotistical, condescending, know-it-all, Sentinel-groupie exhaust port!_

"Wait! Waitwaitwaitwait-" Accompanying by the frantic cry was a flash of blue and then Blurr stood in front of Bumblebee and Sari with his servos out, entreating them to halt. "That wasn't how I meant it! I need you to stay out of the way when I'm working. I can't do stealth reconnaissance with another bot tagging along, especially someone who- never mind, that's not important! I need to work alone. That's how I operate of necessity and any interference could have dire consequences, which surely you can recognize from what happened last time. But that isn't to suggest that during any interim we couldn't associate on affable terms and I believe that would be for the best as we are living together and are teammates working towards the same critical goal. To be completely transparent, I haven't been part of a team since Autoboot Camp and that was incredibly tedious working with a group of muscle-bots who were only interested in-"

"Woah!" Bumblebee declared, throwing his arms out to the sides.

"Whoa!" Sari snapped. "Hey, Bumblebee, have you forgotten that I'm on your _shoulder_!"

Ratchet would tell him that he was crazy, but whenever Blurr spoke for longer than a minute, Bumblebee could feel his own processor whirl to catch up. He wanted to transform and race in a circle to pump out the steam he felt inside himself. He wasn't mad now, but startled. Blurr had rattled off a speech that whipped his mood in another direction lightning fast and he felt disoriented.

"Uh… what are you suggesting, exactly?" he questioned. "A truce?"

"No. A truce is an imposed cessation of hostilities between entities which dislike each other. While I have had cause to feel notable frustration towards you in the past, you _did_ free me from Master of Disaster's control. You're impulsive, but I think your spark is in the right place- you just don't have the makings of an Autobot intelligence officer, but that of course is why I am here. As already stated, it's crucial I be left alone while working, but given the altered nature of this post that won't be during all twenty-four of this planet's megacycle equivalents. I suppose in conclusion, I apologize for my former abruptness and…" He shrugged and, for the first time that Bumblebee had ever witnessed, paused. "…friends?"

Seeing Blurr's hand opened towards him, Bumblebee felt an unexpected rush of giddiness and grabbed the offered servo. "Yeah! Of course. Friends!"

The other bot looked at him in puzzlement, but then shook his hand and said in comprehension, "Oh. This is a human gesture. Thank you."

"Oh, yeah," he laughed nervously. "Guess I'm just used to it."

"Well, if you'll excuse me, I need to return to work."

Blurr turned and walked away, moving quickly but slow enough that Bumblebee could follow his movements with his optics. In the end, he supposed their interaction had gone as well as- no, better than- he had hoped.

Pain sparked along the top of his head as, abruptly, Sari grated the jagged edge of her Key over his horns.

"That's for telling Blurr my secret just so you could impress him!" she declared. "Don't ever do that again, Bumblebee!"

"Ow! Ow! I'm sorry! I wasn't thinking!" Blurr was right- he was impulsive. Repentant, he raised his hand to Sari so she could move to a safer perch and asked, "Can I make it up to you?"

"Sure," she responded, a deviant glint sparkling in her eye. "Next time we're out, I get to control your steering wheel."

"What! No way! You don't know how to drive!"

"How am I ever going to learn if I don't try?"

"What if you crash me? Or we hit another car? Or-"

"Silly, that's what my Key is for."

"Just because you can remove dents doesn't mean getting them won't hurt!"

"Don't be a baby. You owe me."

"Come on, something else…"

But she only sang, "Yoooou oooowe meeeee…"

* * *

That evening, Optimus received a request for a private consultation from Blurr. The message did not surprise him; naturally, the agent carried information meant only for a Prime. They met in Optimus' room.

After greetings and the anticipated disclaimer of secrecy, Blurr began, "You have clearance to know the nature of Whiplash's mission. He's conducting a survey of this planetary system and surrounding star clusters to provide Cybertron Command with accurate navigation charts and tactical data. Command believes Earth may become a battleground in the war, not just because of the AllSpark's presence, but that it has become an emotionally evocative and consequential site for the Decepticons as it is the last known location of Megatron and possibly the place of his final defeat. Those latter facts could become driving motivators for the Decepticons to conquer and destroy Earth, with disregard as to whether the planet poses any tactical advantage or threat. Unfortunately, right now Earth is very much a liability to both sides given the substantial effects that anyone can exact with even the possession of a solitary AllSpark fragment. In spite of the opinion of some of your crew- I think you can discern for yourself who I mean- the status of Earth is a priority concern of the Elite Guard. For this reason, Whiplash's secondary objective is to determine a suitable moon or planetoid for the construction of a new space bridge."

After the requisite moment to internally play Blurr's speech at half-speed back to himself, Optimus said, "Building a space bridge anywhere near Earth could be problematic. This territory belongs to the humans and, understandably, they resent us involving their planet in our war. They might object to us annexing any part of this space, especially for something that will make their world _more_ accessible to us."

"Command is aware of that and does not consider it an issue worth the deviation or delay of construction. Given the potentially dire nature of any scenario that would arise on this planet, any objections of the human governments would reflect their failure to comprehend the situation and should be overridden."

"What!" Optimus' sense of injustice was instantly triggered. "They can't just decide that! It's-"

He stopped himself and remembered what Bulkhead had said a few days ago. _"Boss-bot… you don't need to pretend around us."_

Yes, he had a very good relationship with his crew. It was a double-sided ax. As their leader, he was also their liaison between them and the higher ranks. He had to show faith in Cybertron Command. Decisions he could not change were still ones under which he had to function.

"It doesn't feel right. But Command has a point," Optimus conceded.

"I am authorized to recall Whiplash to Earth as backup should I judge his presence merited. Additionally, you are authorized to recall Whiplash in the event of my decommissioning or suspected decommissioning."

"You mean if you get captured or go offline," he said bluntly.

"Yeeeees." What was a drawl for Blurr was normal talking speed to Optimus. "Events I'd prefer not to contemplate but must acknowledge as real possibilities. I could always tumble into a trash compactor, however that's much less likely to occur than- say- Decepticon fire or a speeding accident."

_Did he just make a joke?_ Optimus wondered. Keeping up- or rather catching up- with Blurr was an exercise in endurance. "Right. What is the situation on Cybertron? Is that data for which I have clearance?"

Blurr's expression became grim. "Although positive identification hasn't been made, most of the Council is convinced that Longarm Prime is Decepticon agent Shockwave. That any Decepticon could infiltrate our military- especially the intelligence division- has brought everyone's loyalty into question. Cybertron is not a good place to be right now."

"Then you aren't displeased with your assignment?" A personal question, but a point that worried Optimus. Morale had been low for almost everyone except Bulkhead during their space bridge repair cycles; most of them hadn't wanted to be there.

"I volunteered for this assignment," said Blurr, yet he did not elaborate. "Also, I was instructed to deliver this."

He handed Optimus a data pad with the Elite Guard brand and markings indicating it was a declassified consignment request. Surprised and wary, Optimus scanned the code and felt a jolt. Glancing back at Blurr, he spoke sharply, "I wasn't informed that I was losing a member of my crew."

"His reassignment is voluntary, but given its nature one might consider it an obvious choice. My order regarding it was simply to provide it to you to provide to him. It was passed to me as a matter of convenience, not a part of my mission."

_Why should I begrudge this? I don't want to lose him, but I've always known he was modded for something better than this._

"This comes abruptly, but thank you. I'll let him know."


	13. Chapter 13: Blurr Effect

**Chapter Thirteen: Blurr Effect**

_"What's it like to dream?"_

When Prowl had first asked, Bumblebee had thought it was the stupidest question he had ever heard. Now, he wondered if dreaming was something he did without realizing it. After dropping off Sari at Sumdac Tower, he cruised around the city, passing all the familiar haunts: Wyatt Toys, Burger Bot, Tigatron Stadium, the park. What was on his processor wasn't memories. Everywhere, there was a blue streak in his headlights- just ahead, just fast enough to never be caught. He knew it wasn't really there; he was only wishing for it to be.

_I wanna race Blurr!_ he thought. Ever since he'd met the other bot, he had wanted to race him. No, not true- in the beginning, when he had known Blurr as just a car, he had wanted to _beat_ him. Now, he doubted that was possible. Blurr could run loops around him even with his turbo boosters- if they raced, he'd lose. Was he okay with that? He hated competition because whenever anyone was better than him, they always thought he was worthless. That was why he had to be the best. But he wanted Blurr to like him and the fellow speedster would think he was strange if he _didn't_ ask him to race.

_Blurr was really cool about us starting again. He wouldn't just start blowing steam out his valves over this, right?_

And, as predictable as the contest's outcome would be, he still really wanted to race the other Autobot. He knew he couldn't win, but he still wanted to show Blurr what he could do. He wanted to zoom through Detroit with another bot who understood the thrill and call- the daring and precision- of speed.

He returned to headquarters shortly after dawn to find Prowl and Bulkhead watching a nature documentary on television. The narrator spoke in a drowsy, droning monotone.

"Boooooooor-ENG!" Bumblebee declared.

Prowl released a disparaging sputter, but Bulkhead chuckled and said, "You think everything we like is boring."

"'We'? Since when have you and the ninja been a 'we'?"

"Huh? Right now, Prowl and I are hanging out, so we're a 'we'. When you and I go to the freestyle exhibition at the park tonight, then you and I will be a 'we'."

"Bulkhead, you are the strangest bot I've ever called 'friend'," said Bumblebee. "Where's Blurr?"

"Out," Prowl answered like a whip. "As will we be when Ratchet is ready."

"Why do we always wait for Ratchet, but whenever I ask Prime to wait for _me_ it's a problem?"

"Because Ratchet has reasons. You just have complaints."

"I can see why Bulkhead likes you. It's your Mr. Sunshine personality!"

Within a megacycle, the whole team was ready and assembled near the exit, all in vehicle mode with the exception of Prime.

"Professor Sumdac is concerned that Sari is falling behind in her education programming, so she won't be accompanying us today," said Prime. "You know the drill."

"Oh, yes," Ratchet grumbled. "Drive around and wait for something to explode."

"And _I'm_ the complainer," Bumblebee groused.

"Prowl, would you mind hanging back a klik?" Prime asked. "The rest of you, roll out. We'll catch up."

* * *

As Prowl flipped from motorcycle back to robot-mode, he cynically speculated upon what he had done this time. Probably nothing, he realized quickly; Prime seemed chipper, so a reprimand couldn't be the agenda- not that he hadn't been a frequent recipient of "teamwork is good" speeches in the past. He followed Prime into his room, where the other bot turned to give him a proud, yet also wistful, smile.

"Well, Prowl, I can't say I'm surprised. Not completely."

Prime help up a data pad and- smile broadening awkwardly- handed it to him.

"Looks like you've a got a friend in the Elite Guard. Not that you don't deserve this. You certainly do."

Perplexed, Prowl scanned the sigil and text on the pad. Elite Guard Autobrand, voluntary transfer request. He held in his servo readmission into cyber ninja training with a preapproved testing slot for the Elite Guard after completion.

To his shame, he almost trembled. One day, someday- a nebulous, undefined eventuality- he had planned to petition to resume his training, but had never imagined receiving it with the prospect of the Elite Guard attached. And he had not expected this so soon.

Too soon.

"Jazz," he said flatly. "This is his doing."

"I wasn't told who originated this. If you accept, arrangements are already in place to transport you to Cybertron. You'll be back home within an orbital cycle."

"Transport me…" He stopped. "If I accept, that would mean leaving Earth- this team."

"Prowl…" Prime's expression was frank. "It was always obvious you never belonged on a space bridge repair crew."

In spite- or perhaps because- of the tension spring-loaded inside him, he laughed. "One could say the same of you, Prime."

The other bot's optics abruptly dimmed. "No. I know exactly why I'm here."

The moment grew somber, not on account of Prime's response but Prowl's internal consternation. He ought to be awed, grateful- at the merest pleased. Yet of course, like the inverted being he was, he felt just the opposite.

"Well," Prime continued, an obvious stab at changing topic and tone, "it's your decision. You would be missed, but we support what's best for each other, Prowl- including when it's time for one of us to move on to something better."

_"Anyone who wants something more is eventually going to have to leave."_

He felt like Prime was throwing his own words back at him, twisted into deformity to make them sound positive.

"I… this is not what I expected. I don't know what to say."

_Of course, I want this. Why wouldn't I want this?_

Was it a matter of want?

Prime's smile was so kind- so _naïvely_ misunderstanding- that Prowl wanted to scream. "Think it over. And if you need to talk…"

_I'd rather pry off my own servo with my shuriken than talk to you about this._ "Thank you, Prime."

"You're welcome."

Prowl found his sincerity corroding.

_I can't go back._

* * *

"Uh-uh-un," Sari groaned after Tutor Bot had finally been stowed away for the day. "If I'm part robot, why can't you just upload this stuff into my brain?"

Across the dinner table, her dad chuckled and shook his head. "That's not a part of you that's robotic, Sari. Now, eat your salad."

"If I'm part robot, why do I need to eat salad? Why can't I just take little fuel capsules and not have to deal with yucky lettuce and cucumbers?"

"Because if you had a mechanical digestive system, you would not be able to have ice cream."

"Hmm. Good point. Does this mean I get ice cream?"

"We'll see. Eat your salad."

It was weird, Sari reflected as she showed undue violence to a tomato, how life changed but also didn't. Still stuck with Tutor-bot and still stuck eating vegetables. But there were exciting things, too: Blurr, for one, and her dad was teaching her what she could do with her cybernetic implants. Her sonic scream was the easiest power to use and she had been defending herself with it all along, she realized. Manipulating energy fields was hard. She wasn't very patient with it because she really just wanted to be able to _do_ it and have fun tricking sensors and cameras. But the biggest change- the best change- was that her dad was more mindful. Before, he'd always lost track of time in his lab and forgot to eat. Now, he joined her almost every day for meals. She liked seeing more of him, especially after fearing she'd never see him again.

They were just getting to what Sari hoped would be the dessert portion of dinner when a chime sounded over the intercom.

"Hmm…" her father mumbled to himself, activating a view screen in the table.

"It's probably Bumblebee," she said. The Autobots had promised to pick her up after her studies.

"No, this car I don't recognize," he answered.

She left her chair to peek over his arm at the screen. Parked in the entry way of Sumdac Tower was a sleek, light blue car with a low roof and elongated, pointed wheel hubs.

"Blurr?"

"Who?" asked her dad.

"Blurr," she repeated. "He's the new one. Well, not really new. He was here before. Still, he's the _newest_…"

Why was he here? He couldn't be spying or he wouldn't have announced himself. Did he want to talk?

_It better not be about what Bumblebee told him yesterday!_

"I'll go see what he wants." She gave her father a quick kiss on the cheek. "See you later, Dad!"

"Wait, Sari." He touched her arm. "Are you sure?"

Giving him a funny look, she said, "Of course I'm sure. He's with Optimus and he's Elite Guard."

She didn't mention that Blurr was technically under the command of Sentinel Prime nor that half of the Elite Guard she had met were jerks nor that an Autobot Bumblebee had known was actually a Decepticon. That would just confuse and worry her dad. Blurr could be trusted, at least not to mean any harm. She wasn't sure if she trusted him to trust her or keep her secrets.

Outside the tower, she got her first good look at Blurr's vehicle mode since the night of Bumblebee's drag race. As much as she loved Bumblebee and riding in him, she admitted Blurr was a much more impressive model: pretty color, a dynamic shape that made him look like he could blast off into space as well as down the road.

"Sari Sophia Sumdac?"

"Yes?" she replied.

The driver's side door opened- not outward, swinging towards the front like on most cars, but upwards towards the roof. Sari oooed at that. So cool!

"Would you like a ride?"

"Sure!" Who wouldn't in a car like that? "Wait. Where to?"

"I did not select a destination prior to arriving here. Where interests you? Or perhaps we shall cruise?"

"Cruising's good," she said. In an Autobot, it didn't matter where you went; most of the fun was in getting there. "Oh, hey, can we get some ice cream?"

"Ice cream. That is a frozen organic fuel made from bovine secretions and sucrose chains. I request that you not expose this substance to my interior, but I will gladly transport you to attain some ice cream."

_Fair enough_, she decided. If she were a really cool car, she guessed she wouldn't want people eating inside her either. She hopped inside and gave another coo of admiration. The texture of Blurr's seats was smooth like leather, but felt plump and cushy like her bedroom pillows. His controls were completely alien. Instead of a stick for shifting, there was a sliver ball she could cup her hand over and roll. His dashboard didn't have dials and numbers, but outlined schematics and symbols that flashed and shifted in bright orange, red, and green against the black screen.

"Wow!" she exclaimed. "Are all cars like you on Cybertron?"

"Very few. My protoform was outfitted as an experimental model, one which had a limited production run. The entire line was engineered with the same capacity for speed, however I am the only one equipped with an accelerated perception/computation rate allowing me to utilize my engine's complete potential. Going fast isn't enough. Without a complementary reaction time, driving at extraordinary speeds endangers one's self and other bots. Unfortunately, it took many of my predecessors crashing for my engineers to realize this."

_By crashing, you mean…_ Sari almost asked, then decided she didn't want the answer. Blurr's door glided shut and a seat belt snapped into place over her waist and chest, snug without chaffing.

"You've got engineers on Cybertron. So, you've got bots that design and make other bots? Are they like parents?" she questioned.

"My knowledge of human reproduction and associated social bonds is limited. My assessment is that superficial similarities- at least in function- are citable, however that would be a misunderstanding of both," said Blurr. "I do not have anything like a father or a mother. Those concepts I did not encounter until my previous investigation on Earth and I do not pretend I understand their complexity. Your planet is foreign to me and I find it fascinating. I'm pleased to return here. But enough idling."

Sari wasn't prepared for the sudden acceleration; it almost knocked the air from her lungs. Blurr looked like he had a rocket and took off the same way. They zoomed down the street, passing buildings and other cars almost too fast for her to see them as anything but streaks. More than once, someone honked in protest.

"Woah! You are definitely not doing the speed limit!" she shouted.

"Earth's speed restrictions are sensible for vehicles that are controlled indirectly and dependent upon a remote processor- ah, pardon me, I mean a brain, I am unused to your terminology- of another entity to direct it. However, if you wish I can slow myself to the posted rate of thirty-five miles per hour."

"What, no, are you kidding? This is great!" She whooped, throwing up her arms. "Just don't crash or make anyone else crash, okay? And don't get caught by the cops."

Blurr chuckled. "Never. I'm the fastest ground model online. However, I think that's quite enough chatter about me. What about you, Sari Sophia Sumdac? What is your status?"

"You mean, how am I?" She shrugged as they whirred by Wyatt Toys. "I'm okay."

The voice had come to her again last night. It hadn't spoke to her while she was awake since she had shut the gate in her mind, but she felt it clawing at her dreams, she heard it wailing, "Please, please, please" as she tried pushing it away, pushing the sound out of her head-

Thinking of it now, she almost started trembling, but she didn't want Blurr to see her scared and start wondering. Nobody could know about this. They would think she was crazy and do something to fix her- something well-meant but terrible.

_Whatever it is, it just wants my help_, she thought guiltily. But it wasn't fair of it to ask her! She was just a little girl!

She felt the Key glow warmly against her chest. She had done so much with it, but what was her and what was the Key? It seemed to work for anybody. She knew the AllSpark had made the Key for her, chosen her for its power, but what made her special that way? Just that she was a cyborg? Cyborg was a "what", not a "who". That reason wasn't good enough.

"Sari Sophia Sumdac?" Blurr prompted, noting her quietness.

"You don't have to call me by my full name," she said. "I don't really like my middle name. It's so… old person."

"A scan through Earth's knowledge databases suggests that 'Sophia' originates from a language called Greek, in which it means 'wisdom'."

_Greek like "Prometheus"_, she realized. That was probably why Isaac had picked it, to acknowledge her other father. Now she _really_ hated her middle name.

Continued Blurr, "Earth naming customs are intriguing. On Cybertron, we are identified by serial numbers until we are given names upon entering our occupational fields. But humans are always named and by words that mean other words."

"Hey, you're speaking slower!" Sari suddenly noticed. "Why? I didn't think you could."

"I thought you would prefer it. Not possessing a CPU, it might be more difficult for you to process my speech."

"Uh… even people _with_ CPUs have problems with your speech. You don't do it for Bumblebee, why me?"

Blurr made a sputtering sound, like a snort. "Bumblebee should be able to keep up."

"You don't do it for Optimus Prime."

"One of my duties is to relay information in the most expedient manner available."

"Well, don't do it for me!" she snapped. She didn't want to be treated differently, because that felt like Blurr was trying to trick her into something. Probably into trusting him, maybe giving him information she really shouldn't. "I'm one of the team, yanno, even if I don't turn into a car and have the brand stamped on me. Okay!"

A pause. Then rapidly, "I apologize, Sari Sophia Sumdac. My intention was not to offend. To be honest, it is a relief to hear you say so. A pace which you might consider normal seems lethargic to me. Listening to others speak at such a rate I do not mind. To do so myself is exceedingly frustrating. I feel as if my thoughts are piling up and colliding in my mind when I do not articulate them at my vocalizer's default setting."

_Maybe I should have just let him act weird_, she thought with a groan. Listening to Blurr was dizzying, but she was determined to get used to it. Because it was Blurr-thing and if she was going to like him, she wanted to like him for him, just like the other Autobots. Bumblebee was stubborn and took on too much, Bulkhead didn't have the best awareness of space, Ratchet was grouchy, Prowl was oddly self-centered, Optimus was over-protective and paranoid- but she loved all of them for them. She didn't want them to change just because they had things about them she could point to as annoying and, deep down, she did hope Blurr could be a new friend.

"So… about what Bumblebee told you yesterday…" she began.

"Yes?"

"About me being a cyborg," she said, then stopped. She'd accepted this fact about herself, but she still didn't like talking about it to anybody but her father. It wasn't a horrible secret, but a lot of the time it felt like it. Even though she wouldn't change her life, it still stung that so much of it was odd and weird because of this one thing that would be dangerous for the rest of the world to know. "Are you going to tell your bosses? The guys at Cybertron command?"

On the dashboard, red glyphs running from right to left under a rotating diagram of active pistons were replaced with a green sphere.

"My assignment is to detect and monitor Decepticon activity," Blurr replied. "In reporting to my commander, Sentinel Prime, I am responsible for judging which data is of significance and filtering out the rest. What Bumblebee shared I recognize as a personal secret. At this juncture, I believe it is inconsequential to the mission for which I have been tasked, however it could be of great relevance to the objective of Optimus Prime's team, which is to collect all the fragments of the AllSpark- particularly because you are the keeper and guardian of an artifact of significant AllSpark power. At this moment, no, I will not tell Command. I cannot speak openly of the situation, however I know you already are aware of our discovery of traitor Longarm-Shockwave. Keeping what you are classified might be best for Cybertron and I will operate under that protocol until I have cause to believe otherwise. Is this answer sufficient?"

Sari took several moments to think over what Blurr had said. In the end, her response was to ask, "If you do think you have to tell Sentinel, will you at least tell me?"

"Yes. I believe I can promise that, Sari Sophia Sumdac."

"Okay." She lowered her face, staring at her lap, and hugged herself. She felt trapped, but not by Blurr. The way he made it sound, they were stuck in the situation together and he just had to do whatever he had to. So she decided to take a risk and give him a bit more of the story. "My Key didn't use to be a key. It was a security access card, for my dad's company. Then, I met Bumblebee and I got onto Optimus' ship-"

"Ratchet's ship," Blurr corrected. "Which is not to suggest that Ratchet owns Omega Supreme. I am not sure you understand their relationship. The ship is Ratchet's and Ratchet is the ship's. Medi-bot Ratchet has not spoken of this to me, but I already was aware from his personal data rec-"

"Yeah, they're married, I get it. Anyway, so I ended up in the cargo hold, where there was a big yellow box. That had the AllSpark inside it. It opened and… and the AllSpark _talked_ to me. Not talk talk like you and I are doing. It's like we _thought_ at each other. And then it changed my access card into the Key." Sari frowned, clutching at her lanyard. "You seem to know a lot of stuff. Why would the AllSpark do that? Was it… was it choosing me?"

The delay before Blurr answered was only a few seconds- but that was probably minutes for him, a good long time.

"No one knows much about the AllSpark. Your Key is not the only object infused with its energy. There are similar items that we keep in our production factories, which we use to give sparks to new protoforms. However, that is all these objects do. They are channels to the life-giving properties of the AllSpark- some believe, to the Well of AllSparks, that not everyone's spark is new and sometimes fallen heroes return in new forms for the salvaging of Cybertron or that other individuals are given second chances for whatever they did or failed to do in other online sessions. Your Key is the only relic I have ever heard of which also repairs or alters or even revives machines, that possibly might be capable of serving as a true substitute for the AllSpark. If it did choose you, then I have a duty to you that is greater than mine to any Prime or Magnus. Be careful with your power, Sari Sophia Sumdac."

Sari shivered. She liked having friends that were heroes- she liked being a hero- and having adventures, but she knew it wasn't a game. She'd also read and seen enough fantasy stories to know that people with special abilities fell into two categories: those that charged out and did stuff to save the world and those that were constantly getting captured by the bad guys and in need of saving because their powers could be turned against their will for evil. This, a connection to the AllSpark, sounded too much like the latter.

_I don't want to be anything's pawn or puppet or drone. I want to decide what happens! I want to make things better!_

The voice that kept grabbing out for her, calling for help- what did it want her to be?

"Please don't tell anyone about this," she said.

"I don't need to speak of this to anyone. Optimus Prime already knows you are important and Cybertron Command is in no position to help you even if it did- even if they would believe the AllSpark would commune with an organic," Blurr replied. "This is a great deal to compute. I didn't realize just how interesting this posting would be- but if there are Decepticons still on this planet, I _will_ find them, so you needn't worry, Sari Sophia Sumdac. I have located several ice cream repositories within Detroit. What is your preference?"

"You can just call me 'Sari'. The rest of my name isn't necessary," she responded and after a pause added, "That's what friends do."

"Oh." Blurr's voice was surprised. "Thank you, Sari."

They drove by Wyatt Toys again, which meant they had been speeding in a circle, but Blurr must know that. He'd probably been doing that on purpose, to let them talk for as long as they needed. Sneaky, Sari thought. But maybe not devious, really. Getting to know each other was important.

"Icy Queen's good. There's a whole bunch of those, but the one by the park has the biggest lot so we can hang out."

"Icy Queen it is," said Blurr and he took a sharp left turn through a red light. A blare of horns followed and- seconds after the maneuver, which had passed lightning quick- Sari realized the danger they'd tempted.

"Aren't you ever afraid of getting hit?"

"I had a clear opening. You forget I perceive and react significantly faster than other vehicles. Whatever risk you perceived was an unfounded, blunt alarm due to the difference in our computation rates."

"You know what, Blurr?" she began, knowing what she said next was probably going to irritate the car. "You're more like Bumblebee than you think."


End file.
